


Death becomes her

by SeaLullaby



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:08:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 62,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8704384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaLullaby/pseuds/SeaLullaby
Summary: A new player joins the deadly game between good and evil in Sleepy Hollow. Abbie and Ichabod now have two powerful undead on their hands, but fortunately, one is much friendlier. In fact, she makes a staunch ally for the Witnesses and a formidable adversary for the Horseman –in more ways than one. But if she challenges all his certainties, he also comes to challenge hers. From S1E8.





	1. Foreword

Dear Reader,

 

**This is extremely important, so please read it.**

 

A word before the beginning of this story : I think you should know that my OC –whose name you will soon discover– is a vampire ; you should also know why, because there’s a very specific reason, or rather several specific reasons. So here goes.

Since she’s going to befriend (or more) Abraham, aka the Horseman of Death, I wanted someone who could really be a challenge for him, someone who could actually beat him in a fight and be very difficult to kill ; meaning someone who doesn’t have to _fear_ him –big change for him. Now, that person would need superior speed and strength, hence she can’t be human. I first thought of an elf, but I didn’t feel like an elf would fit in the universe of Sleepy Hollow… It’s just a feeling, I don’t have any rational explanation for this. Then it struck me that a vampire is an undead : confronting an immortal undead with another immortal undead, who is most of the time also considered as a monster… Why not ? The difference is, my vampire is a rather decent undead –there’s got to be a difference between the two of them, otherwise it’s not interesting.

One more thing : she’s a vampire like in _Vampire Diaries_. Not that I particularly like this series, or these books –I haven’t even read them– but I appreciate the fact that the vampires don’t have to kill their preys thanks to their compulsion –that they can drink human blood, thus accepting their nature of predators, without killing people.  Plus I didn’t want to make up a whole new kind of vampires. The story won’t be a crossover though, since there won’t be any character from the series, or the books. Still, I’ll say it once and for all : _I didn’t invent the species of vampires my OC belongs to_. And, since I’m at it, I don’t own _Sleepy_ Hollow’s characters and plot. There. Now I don’t have to repeat it at the beginning of each chapter…

Also, this is the first fanfiction I publish, just so you know. Sorry if I made mistakes, English is not my native tongue. Of course, I welcome any constructive critiques.

 

Enjoy !

 

SeaLullaby

 

 


	2. Bringing out the undead

Enola Vallombreuse emerged from the flow of students streaming from the front doors of Sleepy Hollow University, and remained standing on the pavement for a short while, stretching her back, arms and legs stiff with sitting almost all day long in a wooden chair. But at least the week was over… Not that she hadn’t enjoyed the five days of conferences and classes about pedagogy and didactics, but they had been quite intensive, and intellectually straining.

_Gods, I feel as if my brain is reduced to a mash._

A yawn escaped her mouth, which she hastily covered ; her small nose wrinkled like a panther’s. She glanced at her watch : eight o’clock. _So that’s why I’m that hungry…_ The thirst was beginning to be insistent too. For a moment she hesitated between wandering downtown to drink from the source, or going back home and tapping in her reserve. Freshness against fatigue… Fatigue won. She walked to the bus stop, just in time to get in the bus. She took a seat, carefully ignoring the glances cast at her, pulled a book from her shoulder bag and opened it at the bookmark. Her superior sense of hearing allowed her to catch some whispers from other passengers : “… no way that colour is natural…”, “… yellow coloured lenses, seriously ?...”, “… no, her eyebrows match her hair…”

Enola bit back a loud annoyed grunt : she had long since lost count of the number of times she’d been asked if her hair colour was natural and if she was wearing coloured lenses ; and she had long since lost count of the number of times she’d respectively answered _yes_ and _no_. _Maybe I should wear a sign or a t-shirt…_ _And my eyes are not_ yellow _, they are_ golden _._

More accurately, they had the colour of tarnished gold. A rare shade, but not inexistent. Same thing for her hair : when she was little, they were a normal auburn but as she grew up, their red hue had become more and more intense, until she ended up with dark red hair. Not _ginger_ , but really _red_. Dark red, yes, but still red. A sharp contrast against her milky skin.

The young woman sighed and ran a slender hand through her shoulder-length locks : she loved her strange appearance, but sometimes she was just tired of quizzical glances and surprised whispers. _You’d think that I’d be used to it now. Ah well. I’m not going to change just to reassure conventional minds._

When she got off the bus a few minutes later, she had to walk some yards to a rather old block of flats where she was renting a three-roomed flat on the second floor. She jogged up the stairs, quickly opened the door and slipped in. She locked the door before allowing herself to lean against it with her head thrown back. She heaved a long sigh, half-relieved half-weary. She felt as if a load of bricks had been lifted from her brain ; it left her both light-headed and exhausted.

_A nice, quiet evening… No rereading notes, no rummaging through my books to understand what the teacher said. Just me, a warm dinner and a good film. And a blood bag._

For a few minutes, she indulged herself in thinking of nothing, but her mind had ran so fast this week that it wouldn’t stop, and incoherent bits of thoughts were still swirling inside her skull ; she could almost see them rippling on her eyelids. She let the muffled noises from the other flats wash over her and focused on her breathing, until her mind was empty and still. Only then did she open her eyes and regain awareness of her surroundings.

The flat was small but comfortable and, thanks to her slight obsession about cleaning, almost spotless. Around the little hallway, there were a bedroom –on the right–, a bathroom/toilet –on the left– and a kitchen/living room ahead. Enola got rid of her lace up ankle boots and, after a detour through her bedroom where she dumped her shoulder bad, she skipped to the kitchen to fill her rumbling stomach. She cooked an omelette with ham and cheese –all the ingredients were organic, and blessed be the weekly market and the only organic shop in Sleepy Hollow– and took it to her room.

 _Sooo… Which one ?_ she wondered poring over the DVDs she had brought. _Hellboy. Why not ?_ But before she shut down her brain for the evening, she had one more thing to do : with delight she turned off the alarm on her phone and thought about the long lie-in she’d enjoy the following morning. After all, she had another free week left to explore the town and its surroundings, before the start of the school year.

Of course, nothing went according to plan.

She had paused the film to go and fetch a blood bag ; she had stuck a straw in it and was now drinking its content, leaning against the fridge and wondering if _she_ could have tracked down Kroenen in the cistern’s maze thanks to her inhuman sense of hearing ; probably not, given the echoes…

And then she heard a horse neighing. Enola stopped swallowing the blood and frowned : the noise was coming from the cemetery. _There’s no stable here… What the hell ?_ She took the straw off her mouth and walked to the window, whose curtains she pulled… Her jaw dropped and her eyes almost burst out from their sockets. _Did someone put hallucinogenic mushrooms in my blood bags ?_

There was a horse all right : a beautiful white one pawing the ground right under the metal arch marking the entry to the cemetery ; when the animal shook its head, she caught a glimpse of its blood-red glowing eyes. But that was not the most shocking part of the sight, and Enola felt her heart crawling up her throat : the horse’s rider was a broad-shouldered, broad-chested… man… wearing the red coat of an eighteenth century British soldier and a bandolier of shotgun shells ; to his back was strapped a shotgun and to his waist, a broadaxe ; he had no head.

The vampire swallowed hard : she was aware of the existence of the supernatural world –she was even a part of it, just as were werewolves, witches and warlocks– but this… This she had never seen nor heard of. She could feel the wrongness the creature exuded, an aura as cold as death nipping at her skin and heart like an invisible icy mist ; she could detect the smell of dried blood, dirt and rotten wood wafting from it. Nature itself seemed to be holding its breath –the night was utterly silent, there wasn’t the slightest breeze, the slightest creak in the trees. And time seemed to have frozen –to stretch as slowly as a ribbon of molasses hanging from a spoon– as she watched the rider’s perfect control of his horse, his precise gestures, his elegance, as if he were one with his mount.

Suddenly the silence was shattered by a voice –undoubtedly masculine– calling from further into the cemetery :

“I received your message !”

Enola saw the creature’s back stiffen as it turned its full attention towards the owner of the voice : another man on a horse –fortunately for her sanity, this one had a head– standing on the path that led into the graveyard, his features blurred by the mist rolling among the graves and the trees ; she could see he was tall and thin, but little else, even with her superior sight.

“My reply !” the man added, raising an arm.

The gesture revealed he was holding something in his hand : a kind of big cylindrical lantern… except there was no flame burning in it, but something whitish, vaguely spherical, lit from the inside… It looked like a skull. Enola blinked in puzzlement : was that the _rider_ ’s head ? Was the guy suicidal to dangle it in front of its undead axe-wielding owner ?

At the sight of the skull, the white horse reared with a piercing neigh, as if brutally whipped –or rather, as if reacting to its master’s sudden fury– and, spurred by its rider, dashed towards the fool who had dared taunting them. No need to say, said fool hurriedly made his mount whirl around and took off into the mist, hounded by the hellish beings.

Only then did Enola realize that she had been holding her breath, and she exhaled slowly, forcing her fingers to let go of the curtains they had been holding so tightly her knuckles had turned white. _I feel I’m about to do something very stupid…_ Her brain had switched into vampire predatory mode and she was almost shaking with the flow of adrenaline crackling along her nerves like sparks.

Thrill of the hunt.

And irresistible curiosity.

What was that _thing_? Who was that man ? Was the hell had he drawn the headless undead after him ? Was it a trap ? It had to be… Otherwise it was the most twisted suicide she had seen. If he was trying to kill –or rather destroy­– the creature, maybe she could help : obviously it was _not_ some benevolent spirit striving to bring happiness to people…

Gunshot in the distance.

 _Yeah, I_ am _going to do something very stupid._

She flew to the hallway, shoved on her dark red leather ankle boots which she hastily tied, grabbed her dark brown leather jacket, snatched her keys which she thrust into her pocket, turned off the lights, rushed to the window, opened it, climbed on its sill and jumped. She landed noiselessly on the pavement and dashed into the graveyard using her vampire speed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... What do you think so far ?  
> Sorry, I'll spend quite some time on this episode, but I promise you won't be bored... I hope. Hey, it's Enola's first encounter with the Horseman/Abraham. These things matter ! Even if said encounter is rather brutal... One thing is certain : it won't be love at first sight ^^  
> Please don't hesitate to comment. Your opinions are important to me.


	3. Head hunting

Enola tore down the cemetery path after the two riders, following the hoof beats ; with her vampire speed, she quickly caught up with them. With a silent curse, she plunged behind a tree when the headless rider turned around to retrieve his axe stuck into a tree trunk : obviously he had tried to chop his prey’s head and missed. Not that she feared him –she knew she was perfectly capable of defeating him– but she didn’t want to ruin whatever plan the human man had in store for the creature : if he was leading it into a trap, she couldn’t afford to distract it. _I’m surprised it doesn’t suspect it’s a trap… Or maybe it does, but it wants its head back too badly. Or it’s so furious the possibility didn’t even occur to it. How reckless._

Footsteps : the human had got off his horse ; she heard hinges squeaking, a metallic clang… _two_ metallic clangs. A shocked exclamation, closely followed by the dull noise of a body hitting the ground. Hurried footsteps fading away.

_CLOMP_

Something landing heavily. Or something heavy landing. Again the squeaking of hinges and the _clang_ signalling some gate had closed. But this time, there was no sound of a fall : only the loud noise of impossibly heavy footsteps. _The headless guy ? Jeez, if he’s as heavy as he sounds, he must have a hard time swimming._

She shook off the absurd thought and unglued herself from the tree. She glanced around : they had passed the rows of graves and reached an empty clearing. Enola frowned : where had the metallic noises come from ? Then her eyes fell on the red-eyed white horse calmly standing in the grass, near…

The young woman smiled with satisfaction : branches were scattered on the ground, as if they had been used to conceal something. She strode to them and quickly noticed the trapdoor. The horse stared at her but did nothing to prevent her from going near the hatch ; it – _no, wait, it’s a he_ – even greeted her with a snort and a nod : obviously he recognized the darkness in her, her undead nature, and considered her as a peer. _Great. A hellish horse thinks I’m his friend._ Nonetheless, she returned the nod. _Let’s be polite._

She crouched, grabbed a bar of the trapdoor, and pulled : it revealed, stretching about two yards down, a vaulted masonry tunnel. Thin oxidized moss-covered pipes ran along the ceiling and roots shot out from it and the walls. A damp mouldy smell rose to her nose and she winced : she doubted the smell would disturb a human much, but with her sensitive nose, it caught in her throat. She jumped and landed supply and noiselessly. She remained crouched as she intently listened. _Ahead,_ she thought when she perceived the two series of footsteps –light and hurried, heavy and angry. She jumped on her feet and ran.

  The human had strewn fake skulls made of plaster along his path, and with each one he crushed, the horseman’s fury seemed to redouble. _He’s blinding him with his own rage. Clever. And dangerous._ Funny how he had lost all the elegance with which he rode his horse. He was angrily stomping after the human, his gestures precise and determined, but completely devoid of grace. He still reeked of death though ; the smell even seemed to intensify alongside his wrath. And this cold he radiated… It was unsettling Enola : even vampires didn’t give off such a smell, nor such an aura, and yet they definitely were creatures of death –undead and deadly. So _what_ was he ? It felt as if death weren’t only clinging to him, but were also _in_ him ; as if he _were_ death. _Aaaand I_ did _something very stupid. All right Enola, just get out of here, mind your own business, just– Oops !_

She threw herself back behind the corner she was about to take : the headless horseman had stopped dead when a dark-skinned black-haired woman, exhibiting another skull in the same lantern-thing as the man’s, had called out to him.

“Wanna talk about it ?” she taunted with a sarcastically lifted eyebrow.

“Feeling mocked yet ?” added the man, emerging from a passage behind the horseman.

He still had his own skull replica, and the creature hesitated ; but a couple of seconds later, he went for the woman, as if he had seen something that had made up his mind. She let out a gasp and fled.

“Snuff the light !” shouted the man before disappearing into the tunnel he had come from.

 _Damn it !_ There was no way of knowing if this had been planned out or if the creature had been supposed to go after the human man. _So far they were well-prepared, I doubt they hadn’t anticipated that… Shit !_ If this wasn’t part of their plan, Enola had to intervene… But how could she know ? _All right, for now just follow them and see what happens._ It wasn’t long before she had to stifle another curse : the human woman had just whirled around a corner when her voice rose again in a cry of pain.

“Crane ! Crane, help me !” she shouted a few seconds later, and her voice resounded in the tunnels. “I think I broke my ankle… Crane !”

 _Your prey is weak, strike now,_ whispered the predator in Enola ; she shook her head : tonight, her prey wasn’t the humans, but the undead creature. Still, she paused her chase, uncertain : it could be another ruse, to lower the creature’s guard even more. _But I can’t take that risk._ If it weren’t a ruse, the human woman would be killed for sure, and even though she didn’t know her, even if she drank human blood, she still respected human life. And in her mind, there weren’t enough people striving to make the world a better place, so she wasn’t about to let one of them die.

“Crane, I need help !”

The desperate note in the human woman’s voice made up Enola’s mind : she rushed forward with a nail of anxiety drilling her insides. A metallic taste rose in her mouth at the thought that she would very soon confront her prey, and her fangs almost lengthened.

“Keep quiet, I’m coming for you !” the man shouted… and his voice was coming from behind the vampire.

She muttered a curse : if he saw her before she reached the others, he would no doubt delay her, and him in the process, and his partner would end up dead.

“Hurry !”

 _There !_ The headless being had just disappeared into large round opening in the wall of a tunnel section. Enola sped up and slid to a stop in front of it… She froze : it was a dead end. The opening –it was an opened door– led into a vast strange room : brick-walled like the tunnels, it had the shape of a hexagon ; a hexagonal black stone slab was embedded in the middle of its stone floor, and inlaid with a white marble trinity knot –a triquetra interlaced with a circle. Six mighty stone pillars, reinforced with metal, surrounded the black slab ; strong chains hung down them ; tall seven-candle candelabra stood between them. A large rectangular window had been opened in the wall on the right and looked onto a small room. Torches were affixed to the walls.

The creature was slowly advancing on the human woman, who was crawling backwards on her elbows with a panicked look on her face ; the edge of its axe was burning bright, as if red-hot. Obviously it was enjoying each step he was taking, relishing the fear on its prey’s face, her helplessness. And suddenly…

“Hey !”

The horseman spun around, startled –for the first time in a long while– by the unknown feminine voice.

“Why don’t you pick someone who can actually fight you ?”

He gauged the woman standing in front of him : she was young –maybe twenty-two or twenty-three– , of average height, slender, and undeniably beautiful. Her thick maroon wavy hair coiled on her shoulders ; the features of her heart-shaped face were delicate, her complexion alabastrine and flawless, her pink full lips well-drawn, her cheekbones high but not sharp ; her big old gold-coloured eyes were staring at him defiantly. He couldn’t perceive the slightest trace of fear in them.

Now _this_ was new.  

And there was something off about her… He could feel it. A darkness, something dangerous and feral. Death was clinging to her, certainly not as strongly as it did him, but still… Clearly she was not human. And yet she was trying to save a human’s life.

Then he noticed her position : her feet perpendicular to each other and shoulder-length apart, her hands open –one at her side at hip-level, the other in front of her at stomach-level, her arms slightly bent… It was a combat guard, simple but perfect. Ah well. As intriguing as she was, no one stood against him and lived. The Witness couldn’t go anywhere, so he might as well take care of this one first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a cliffhanger here, sorry. Wait, no : in fact, I'm not sorry *evil snicker*  
> At first, I wanted Enola to observe only, but she wouldn't have it (which isn't surprising given her temper). So I found myself giving her a more active role, which won't be the last time...  
> Anyway, next time : first interaction between Enola and the Witnesses, and first time the Horseman ends up sprawled on the floor (courtesy of Enola, of course).


	4. I'm dead but it's not so bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About the chapter's title : it's a quote from Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion, it doesn't come from me.  
> And there we go : first official meeting between our favorites Witnesses and Enola. Sorry, nothing much will happen, you'll just learn a bit more about Enola's vampire-ness, if you don't already know how vampires in Vampire Diaries are ; also, you'll learn exactly what a young French woman is doing in the US. In the next chapters, however... well, just expect a bit more action.

“Oh no, you’ve gotta be kidding me…”

The human woman’s horrified groan reached Enola’s ears just when the headless creature took two quick steps towards her. _So it_ was _a trap. Great. Fix it._ The horseman swung his broadaxe ; he was fast, and a human would have had no chance of dodging the weapon. But Enola wasn’t human : she ducked while steeping back, jumped, grasped the top of the round door frame, ramming her fingers into the brick, and threw her legs forward with the sheer force of a power hammer ; her feet hit him dead in the chest, sending him crashing right onto the marble trinity knot, about two yards backwards.

“NOW !” the dark-skinned woman yelled.

CLUNK.

Light. So bright and white that it discoloured everything. Enola yelped in surprise and hastily slapped her hands on her eyes, but it was too late : she could see bright blotches exploding behind her eyelids. A smell of burnt flesh filled her nose and made her wince. _Wait… Is that smell coming from me ? No, I don’t feel any pain… It’s the horseman then…_ She could feel a slight prickle on her skin. _UV-light, undoubtedly. He must be vulnerable to it… Makes sense._

She felt someone run past her, heard the _clack_ of closing shackles, then the _click_ of a gun… _two_ guns’ hammers being cocked, one in front of her and one behind.

“Who the hell are you ?” a feminine voice harshly asked.

Enola carefully opened her eyes to peek between her fingers : she blinked a few times before lowering her hands and taking in the situation. The horseman was still lying on his back, obviously in pain, his clothes smoking under the artificial sunlight, his legs restrained by fetters ; behind him stood the human woman, firmly pointing a gun at her with a steely look on her beautiful oval face ; next to her was the human man : long thin face, perplexed blue eyes surmounted by frowned eyebrows, stubble, shoulder-length brown hair tied into a ponytail. Also, the clothes he was wearing were very… eighteenth century :  beige shirt laced on the front with a poet collar, brown breeches, black knee-high cavalry boots, and long black woollen coat. Original. _And why not ? After all,_ I _like to dress in black lace skirts and satin corsets._ He was standing very straight and elegantly. _A soldier ? But with an upper-class education._ He was probably in his mid-thirties.

The young vampire glanced being her and caught a glimpse of a third human : a black-skinned thin-faced man, slender but athletic, wearing a black suit and tie. Like the woman, his dark brown eyes were staring hard at her and he was threatening her with a gun. _Early forties ? Maybe a bit more…_

She bit back the sarcastic _You can’t kill me with those guns you know_ tingling her lips ; after all, they couldn’t know that. Instead, she raised her hands, palms turned towards the human woman.

“I’m not a threat to you, but I’m pretty sure _he_ is,” she said nodding towards the headless being. “So how about you chain him to these reassuringly big pillars, and _then_ we talk ?”

“The young lady has a point, Leftenant,” the strangely-dressed man remarked with a clearly British accent.

“And if you’re wondering who’s going to point a gun at me while you’re busy, you should know that it can’t harm me much,” she couldn’t resist adding, but she managed to keep sarcasm away from her voice. “And I promise I’m not going to try and hurt you, or run away.”

“Captain ? What do you think ?” the woman asked the black-skinned man behind the vampire.

“I think she and Crane are right,” he answered. “Besides, she did try to save your life ; I’ll take that as a positive sign.”

“Fine. But stay away from the Horseman for now.”

“All right,” Enola agreed, and the guns were lowered.

Twenty minutes later, the creature had about as much freedom of movement as a turkey tied up in a dish, and the four non-decapitated others were standing in the small surveillance room ; Enola sat on the table pushed against the wall under the large window, the three humans facing her.

“So, who are you ?” the woman asked.

“My name is Enola Vallombreuse,” she began. “I’m a French student, and I came here for the series of conferences and classes about teaching, at Sleepy Hollow University. And when school resumes, I’ll begin my one-year internship as the French teacher’s assistant at Washington Irving Highschool. And you are… ?”

“Lieutenant Abigail Mills from the Sheriff’s Department ; this is Captain Frank Irving, also from the Sheriff’s Department ; and here’s Ichabod Crane,” the Lieutenant quickly introduced. “And you didn’t say what you’re doing down here.”

Enola shrugged casually.

“I followed you. I rent a flat in front of the cemetery, you see, and when I saw Mister Headless here, I couldn’t resist.”

“That was extremely reckless, Miss Vallombreuse,” Ichabod replied with a frown. “You could have been killed !”

The young woman couldn’t prevent an amused laughter from escaping her lips, and she shook her head.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m very hard to kill !” she assured them.

“Yeah, I saw that,” the Captain agreed. “By the way, how’s it that you’re that strong ?”

Enola tensed up and folded her arms, uneasy : she had no way of knowing how they would react, whether they would treat her as a monster or not, but she _had_ to tell them if she wanted to learn more about what was going on. She quickly made a decision.

“I’ll tell you, but I want something in return,” she said firmly. “First you tell me what this is all about, and then I tell you what I am.”

“ _What_ you are ?” Ichabod pointed out with a lifted eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“And why shouldn’t _you_ begin ?” Abigail inquired.

The vampire shrugged again.

“Because that way I’m sure I’ll get what I want,” she explained. “Information, that is.”

“And how do we know that we’ll get what _we_ want ?”

“I still have a year to spend here, and I don’t want you to harass me during ten months to try and make me spill the beans,” Enola smirked.

The police Lieutenant thoughtfully gazed at her : granted, she didn’t trust the younger woman, but she also knew she wouldn’t harm them –otherwise she wouldn’t have tried to save her when she thought she was about to lose her head. Unless she had precisely been hoping to gain their trust… But then she would have attacked the Horseman when he was chasing after Crane, right ?

“If we tell you the whole story, will you join our fight ?” Crane asked, interrupting her thoughts. “We could use a new ally.”

“It depends on what the whole story is. Also,” Enola continued with an acid smile, “I don’t know if you’ll still be willing to have me around when I tell you what I am.”

“Why ? You do not seem to be a bad person,” Ichabod pointed out. “I believe it is not _what_ but _who_ we are that matters.”

“Well, we’ll see if your values are reality-proof, won’t we ?” the young woman shot back in a light tone, somewhat belied by the cold sparks briefly flashing in her eyes. “So, shall we begin ?”

“Captain, what d’you think ?” Abigail inquired, turning towards her superior.

The latter held up his hands in an _I’m not getting involved_ gesture.

“I may be your boss in the Sheriff’s Department, but as far as I’m concerned, you and Crane are the ones in charge of this supernatural mess,” he said. “It’s your call.”

“Right. Crane ?”

“I think Miss Vallombreuse was honest when she promised us the truth about her nature,” the British man commented. “We should tell her.”

“All right then,” the Lieutenant decided. “Where do we start ?”

Half an hour later, Enola was feeling slightly numb and her head was uncomfortably reeling. _The Apocalypse. The fucking Apocalypse is_ real _. I kicked the Horseman of Death. I fucking kicked Death itself !_ She shook her head : no time to waste with silly thoughts. Not when there were demonic butts to kick. _No way I’m letting Hell settle on Earth._

“You okay ? I know it’s a lot to take in.”

Abigail’s voice roused her from her thoughts. She focused on the human woman before answering with a crooked smile :

“I’m fine. I’m already aware of the existence of the supernatural world, so it’s not that hard to believe.”

“You are part of this supernatural world, are you ?” Ichabod chimed in.

“Yes. I’m…”

Enola took a deep breath to try and ease off her nervousness, then took the plunge.

“I’m a vampire. And this is my true face.”

 Before the half-incredulous, half-horrified humans, blood filled her sclera and swelled the veins under her eyes, tracing dark paths beneath her skin. When she smiled tentatively, it revealed her canines grown into fangs. The three humans almost recoiled at this sight.

“Don’t worry, I’ve never killed anyone,” she hastily specified when they kept staring at her without saying anything.

This announce obviously surprised them, but at least they seemed to relax slightly. She put her human mask back on to make them a bit more comfortable.

“Why ? Do you drink animal blood or something ?” Abigail asked, having regained some of her countenance.

“Oh, no, I steal blood bags from hospitals… Are you going to arrest me ?” the vampire added with a mischievous glint in her eyes and an impish smile.

“Uh…”

“And when I want to drink directly from the veins, I use a very useful power of ours,” Enola went on explaining. “It’s called compulsion… Basically, it’s hypnotisation. I compel my preys not to scream, and then to forget, and ta-dah ! That’s it.”

“And, um, for the gash in their necks…” Ichabod hesitantly chimed in.

“Ah yes… I make them drink a few drops of my blood. It has powerful healing properties, you see,” Enola hurriedly specified when they lifted their eyebrows with a slight grimace. “Very useful too. That’s why I’m so difficult to kill… Again.”

“So you _are_ an undead ?” Captain Irving prodded.

“Well, my body works  fairly normally, except I don’t _have_ to eat, plus my heart beats much more slowly than yours… But yes, technically speaking, I’m an undead. I’m fine though,” the vampire added with a grin.

At these last words, the humans exchanged quick perplexed glances but didn’t reply.

“Are all vampires that strong ?” Irving instead chose to ask.

“We’re stronger and faster than you, and the older we grow, the stronger and faster we get. Also, our senses are way more efficient. Right now, I can hear your hearts beating, I can see each colour in your eyes… You get the idea. And let me tell you, sometimes it’s hell.”

“Yeah, I can imagine that,” the Lieutenant agreed. “By the way, how old are you ?”

“I’ve been twenty-three for two years now. Nothing to do with the oldest vampires in the world –they’re a thousand years old.”

“… Oh.”

“Yeah. So what now ?” Enola asked. “Honestly, I’d like to join you. Even vampires are concerned by the Apocalypse.”

“It depends. Can you control yourself ?” Abigail asked in a serious tone. “’Cause there will be blood.”

Enola stared straight into her eyes.

“Yes, I can,” she firmly declared. “I’m no danger to you… except of course if you give me a good reason to be.”

“This will not happen, Miss Vallombreuse, you have our word,” Ichabod promised.

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he stiffened slightly under her hard stare. Her first and last experience of “love” had taught her, the hard way, not to trust men’s promises. But this one… she felt she could trust him. There was an undoubtable honesty in his eyes, something limpid and straight. She softened her gaze a cracked a smile.

“I believe you,” she said. “So, your values _are_ reality-proof, after all. Let’s hope it lasts,” she added with a smirk.

“Indeed,” he replied with a serious tone and face. “Leftenant,” he went on, turning towards his partner, “I think Miss Vallombreuse can be a formidable ally, which we direly need. Besides, she seems to be a very decent person : I am certain that we can trust her.”

Abigail thoughtfully looked at the young vampire in front of her. The latter steadily held her gaze, her own eyes clear and calm, although she was internally nervous : Ichabod may have said yes, but the die wasn’t cast yet ; it was now in the Lieutenant’s hand. _Come on, say yes._

“There’s just one last thing that bugs me,” Abbie eventually said. “Will you be able to go out during the day ? You know, with this vampire-burning-sun thing…”

“It’s not a problem,” Enola dismissed with a wave of her hand. “I got a witch to cast a spell on me… It prevents the sun from turning me into a small pile of ash. Very useful.”

It wasn’t entirely true : the spell had been cast on a ring, not her ; but she didn’t trust them enough to reveal this, and besides, it was a harmless lie. For now.

“Oh… All right then ,” the lieutenant sighed. “Welcome aboard Miss Vallombreuse.”

Enola’s smile was so broad it almost split her face.

“Great !” she chirped, getting down from the table. “And please, everyone : just call me Enola.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that went well... It won't last long though. Anyway, the next chapter was a bit of a surprise for me : again, Enola decided she'd have a bigger part, and who am I to refuse it to her ? I hadn't planned that weird- oops ! No spoilers... Just read on.


	5. The devil's advocate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first kudos ! Thank you so much !! I hadn't planned to update before next week, but now I'm feeling generous... ^^ I hope you'll enjoy this new chapter ! And as I promised, Enola won't just watch the confrontation between Ichabod and the Horseman, oh no... It's simply not in her nature. Hence the title. Although, to be honest, it's not the devil himself she's defending, as she'll say herself.

_Die, die, we all pass away,_

_But don’t wear a frown ‘cause it’s really okay…_

 

Enola was softly singing the chorus of _Remains of the day_ by Danny Elfman, from the film _Corpse Bride_ by Tim Burton, while studying the Masonic cell with curiosity.

 

_You might try ‘n’ hide_

_And you might try ‘n’ pray…_

She examined one of the candelabra and approached a finger to touch a candle.

 

_But we all end up the remains of the day !_

“Ouch ! Bloody hell !”

A small but painful electric shock had whipped her hand the moment her skin had touched the wax. With a grimace, she gazed at her finger : a small burn marred its tip, but it quickly disappeared thanks to her vampire healing abilities. She glared at the candles and refrained from taking revenge by kicking the candelabrum. _Stupid masonic hex candles. Must’ve sensed my vampire nature._ She snorted : as if vampires couldn’t be decent persons…

Enola’s ears caught a jingling of chains : she turned around and saw that the Horseman had turned towards her the best he could, probably surprised by her shout. _And there it is again. This sensation._ She could _feel_ his gaze on her, like a weight. Which was perfectly confusing, since he had no head ; hence he shouldn’t have had eyes. _He must have a…_ metaphorical _one though, otherwise he couldn’t see or think._

And she could feel the emotions borne in his gaze. She didn’t know why –perhaps it has something to do with her being undead too ? Somehow it made him a little bit less intimidating : if he had emotions, it meant he was more than just Death, right ? This was why she had readily accepted to watch over him while the humans were gone. He still made her slightly uneasy though, but she wasn’t disgusted or/and hateful like the Witnesses and Captain Irving. Which was probably why it was perplexity she could feel in his gaze.

“You’re wondering why I’m not afraid of you, right ?” Enola asked, going and standing in front of the Horseman. “Why should I fear you when you can’t kill me ? Or at least not as easily as you can a human ? You experienced it yourself : I’m stronger and faster than even you. Besides, I heal quickly. I don’t have to be afraid of you. Well, not much.”

Perplexity turned into irritation and his fingers twitched, which made the vampire smirk.

“Is this annoying you ?” she sarcastically cooed. “Well, you’d better get used to it ‘cause it won’t change anytime soon. By the way : no, I won’t tell you what I am. Wouldn’t want you to try and find my weaknesses, hmm ? So I’ll just say this : I’m an undead too. So, do you feel less lonely now ?”

Surprise seeped into his annoyance.

“Yeah, I know, I don’t look the part. _You_ however… Hey, I was wondering : how can you _see_ anything, or think ?”

_Aaand back to annoyance._

“Ugh, _such_ a bad temper !” Enola huffed. “Fine, I’ll just–”  

She broke off when she heard the footsteps in the tunnel outside of the large round door –three sets of them. _So Abbie and Ichabod have found the Horseman’s own personal puppet. Good._

They stopped right behind the door and an unfamiliar voice rose :

“Consider yourself warned.”

“Considered,” Ichabod’s voice coldly retorted.

The door opened and Abbie and Ichabod, accompanied by an Asian man who had to be the late Officer Brooks, stepped inside. The vampire winced discretely when she saw him : he was dead all right. His skin had turned greenish and he smelled of rotting flesh. She noticed the large folds at the base of his neck, as if the skin had been stretched until it was distended. _Charming._

“Who’s this ?” the man distrustfully asked when he saw Enola.

“Enola Vallombreuse,” the latter introduced herself. “I’m a new addition to the team. Well, shall we begin ?”

“Yeah, let’s do this,” Abbie agreed. “Come here Andy…”

A few minutes later, the undead police officer was cuffed to a chair placed in front of the Horseman.

“Hör mich Herr Meister,” he began after a hesitation. “Lass mich für dich sprechen.”

Silence. Enola felt the Horseman’s eyes coming back to her, and with them the awareness of a small part of his emotions, like a slight tug near her heart. Stubbornness, anger. Like any prisoner being interrogated by an enemy. _Why are you looking at me ?_

“Must not be feeling too chatty,” Brooks commented. “Consider it a blessing.”

A hint of satisfaction slipped into Death’s wrath at Ichabod’s and Abbie’s visible frustration, which made the vampire snort discretely. _Jerk,_ she thought as intensely as she could, just in case. For all she knew, that weird link was stronger than she thought. _Gods I hope it’s not. I_ don’t _want to have Death inside my head._

“Feeling less than robust ?” Ichabod intervened. “Good,” he added in a tone dripping with mockery.

The Horseman tried to lunge at the man taunting him, but the strong chains held him back. Enola had had just the time to feel his sudden fury, like a mental whiplash, a split second before he had turned his full attention towards Ichabod : it took all her strength to contain a start and a gasp ; it hadn’t been painful though, just unexpected and violent.

“So, do you have a name?” Ichabod went on, unaware of his new partner’s discomfort. “Should I just call you Death?”

His face was hardened by a mixture of contempt and gloating at the Horseman’s still uselessly pulling at the chains with all his strength.

“You may serve Moloch and outside these walls you may be one of the Four Horsemen from the Book of Revelation,” he continued, and his low voice was as scornful as his expression, “but now… you are nothing but a _prisoner_. And I will see you and your kind defeated. Just as I took your head.”

He took a few slows steps towards the Horseman, his harsh stare riveted on the prisoner, so focused on rubbing salt in his wounds to bait him into talking, that he didn’t notice Enola’s frowning and fidgeting. Also, he _might_ have been enjoying this a bit too much to pay attention to anything else…

“One way or other, I will learn your secrets, and you shall remain here for eternity…”

He grabbed the Horseman’s collar in one hand and leant slightly to strike the final blow right in what was left of the demon’s neck.

 “… a failure.”

Just as he was beginning a gesture to shove back the Horseman, a pale slender hand wrapped itself around his wrist in an iron grip that was almost painful. He started, turned his head… and met a pair of stern golden eyes.

“It’s amazing,” Enola remarked in a falsely casual tone, “how humans tend to forget how much they feared the predator once it’s caged. And how much they _will_ fear it once it’s free. Isn’t this hypocritical ?”

Ichabod blinked and opened his mouth to reply, but he was too baffled to utter a sound. Abbie, however, recovered from her surprise much faster than him.

“Are you saying we should _respect_ him ?” she all but spat.

“I’m saying that you shouldn’t be so arrogant since you were running from him when he was free,” Enola corrected. “Ridiculing the beast once it’s powerless is, I repeat, downright hypocritical, and pathetic, and unworthy of you.”

“I spoke in this fashion in hope of bringing him to talk,” Ichabod protested, taking a few steps back, so that the vampire was standing between him and their prisoner.

Enola folded her arms and lifted a sarcastic eyebrow.

“Please, Ichabod, don’t tell me you weren’t enjoying this, because I won’t believe you.”

In the silence –guilty for Ichabod, puzzled for Abbie– that followed her words, the vampire was even more acutely aware of the Horseman’s eyes on her, and of the confusion in his stare. _Hmm, I should put some things straight._

“As for you,” she added, spinning around to poke his chest with a finger, “don’t look at me like that : I’m defending an idea, not _you_.”

This effectively diverted the Witnesses’ attention.

“Uh…How d’you know he’s looking at you ?” Abbie sceptically asked.

Enola immediately bristled, folding her arms and tensing up, as always when she felt uncomfortable. _That’s what’s called missing an opportunity to shut it. Should I tell them ?_ Well, they were a team now, and honesty was essential between partners. _All right,_ except _when it comes to my daylight ring._

“I can feel it, all right ?” she snapped, and she immediately regretted it when incomprehension appeared on the Witnesses’ faces at her aggressiveness.

She forced herself to relax, unfolding her arms and opening her fingers, which required considerable effort, as if something powerful had taken control of her muscles and was forcing them taut. She took a deep breath before trusting herself to speak calmly.

“I can feel his eyes on me, like… a weight, you know ?” she explained, and she was satisfied to hear her even voice. “And I can feel the emotions… or at least a part of them… carried in his gaze. I don’t know why though. I thought maybe it’s because I’m an undead too…”

“It would make sense…” Ichabod mused aloud. “If he is able to communicate through an undead person, like Mr Brooks here, it is safe to assume that your own nature is the cause of what you are sensing.”

“Hey, _I_ don’t feel that !” said Mr Brooks intervened in a mildly annoyed tone.

“Maybe it’s because I’m a more powerful undead,” she suggested with a shrug. “I mean, for a start, I’m not decomposing…”

“Thanks,” Brooks grated.

“Sorry,” the vampire said, casting an apologetic glance at him. “Anyway, I don’t have any other explanation. But if these archives of yours are so well-stocked, maybe we could find some more information.”

“Hmm. All that’s well and good, but that one here hasn’t said a word yet,” Abbie commented with a nod towards the Horseman. “Maybe he needs to be insulted some more. Wanna do it Enola ? If we stick by your opinion, you’re the only one here who’s got the right.”

The latter chuckled at these words.

“Do I detect a hint of resentment ?” she smirked. “But we should probably discuss this later. For now we’ve got to figure out a way to–” 

The rest of her sentence was choked off by her gasp of pain and surprise. She lifted a shaking hand to her heart and the other to her head, struggling to breathe, and her mouth opened in a silent scream.

“Enola !”

The Witnesses rushed to her, Ichabod with his arms extended to support her, but at the second he reached her, her knees buckled under her ; the moment they hit the stone floor, her cry escaped her throat, resounding in the cell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand cliffhanger ! I'm a wicked, wicked person... I'll let you guess what's happening !  
> So, what do you think of this weird connection between Enola and the Horseman/Abraham ? It's not too much, is it ? I mean, it's not as if she could tell everything going through his mind... Also, I want to specify one thing : it's not because she can sense a bit of his feelings, meaning of his humanity, that she's going to fall into his arms... Especially with what he's going to try and do to her. Ooooh she's going to be so pissed !  
> I want to finish this episode, so the next chapter will be extra-long ! Expect more hints as to how Enola was changed into a vampire, and a couple of demonstrations of her short temper -poor Abraham...  
> Oh, by the way, a playlist with all the songs mentioned in this story is available on my tumblr. My username there is black-paws-soaring and my blog is called Story Box. There's also a portrait of Enola, if you're interested in knowing what she looks like.


	6. Dead men tell no tales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dearies ! Welcome to this new chapter of Abraham and Enola's story ! On the program :  
> \- a failed experience by the Horseman  
> \- a pissed off Enola  
> \- the Horseman taking a beating  
> \- some hints about Enola's transformation into a vampire  
> Enjoy !  
> Just a few words about the title : here the word "tales" must be understood as "lies" and not as "stories". It refers of course to Abraham's confessions.

Cold. Creeping around her heart, drilling into her mind in dark misty tentacles. Slowly freezing her whole body. Alive like a foreign presence inside her.

Enola was struggling to breathe and to keep her dinner inside her stomach. The Horseman's presence inside her was so forceful it numbed her, and she could barely hear Abbie and Ichabod or feel their hands on her arms and shoulders. An incontrollable spasm threw her head backwards, eyes rolling and mouth wide open, as words that were not hers crawled up her throat.

"Crane, her eyes are turning black !"

Abbie's panicked shout pierced Enola's daze. _Wh-what ?_ her numb mind slurred.

"What the hell's going on ?!"

"The Horseman's trying to use her as his voice !" Brooks answered.

 _No shit !_ That's what Enola would have grated if she hadn't been trying to swallow back Death's words. For there was something the latter hadn't anticipated : she was _very_ stubborn. Therefore, that someone was trying to control her infuriated her, so much that her eyes filled with blood and her fangs grew. She fought with all her strength and all her anger to tear her limbs from their cold-induced stiffness, to shake off the icy spider web trapping her thoughts.

_Move._

She first managed to close her mouth, clenching her teeth to imprison the alien words behind them, and her fangs cut her gums. The taste of blood in her mouth was like a slap in her face, as the predator in her awakened and reared at the attempt to control her. Shuddering, she pushed herself up on her feet ; her vision was blurred but she could sense the dark presence standing behind her. Hands were holding her but she pushed them back, staggered around, tripped and crashed into the Horseman's hard chest with a gasp. She closed her trembling fingers on his red coat to steady herself. _And now the hardest part._

"Stop it."

Her voice was but a croaking from her fight to subdue her vocal cords to her own will.

"Stop this–"

She broke off as her voice skidded into a deep, unearthly tone that seemed to come from beyond the grave. Her bloodshot eyes flared at her loss of control and the next sound to roll from her throat was a feral growl. _In your dreams._ She could still feel his stare, so intensely focused it was almost burning her.

"Stop. This. _NOW_!"

She had roared the last word, yanking on the Horseman's coat… and something fell from it, hitting the stone floor with a metallic clinking. Whatever it was had to be important to him, because his presence vanished from Enola's body and mind, so brutally that the vampire's head reeled ; she would have collapsed if not for the Witnesses supporting her. The weight of his gaze had vanished.

"Enola, are you okay ?" Abbie asked worryingly.

The vampire coughed to clear her sore throat before answering in a still slightly hoarse voice.

"Yes, I'm fine."

Which was true : with Death's presence gone, her strength was quickly returning –the perks of being a vampire, she guessed ; sure, she'd need a good night's rest to be as powerful as usual, but at least she didn't feel like an overcooked spaghetto. She blinked a few times, and her vision went back to normal. Her head was still spinning a bit, but nothing serious.

And she was even more furious than before, which was a sure sign of her good health.

She jumped on her feet and glared hatefully at where the Horseman's head should have been, her fists clenched and her eyes filled with blood. Her pretty pink lips were distorted by rage.

"If it weren't completely useless, I'd rip your heart off," she snarled, revealing her fangs.

Abbie and Ichabod exchanged a wary glance : she looked utterly inhuman… and positively frightening. At this moment, they were very glad she was on their side. Enola, for her part, was preparing herself to unleash a verbal onslaught when she decided that he wasn't worth her breath or her imagination. _Sometimes words are better than action, but not right now._

"Gods I wish I could at least _slap_ you," she spat. "But since I can't, I'll settle on this."

And she punched him square in the chest : the gesture had been so fast the humans had only seen a blurry movement, and so powerful several ribs shattered with a satisfying crack and pierced the Horseman's lungs ; he would have bent over with pain if the chains hadn't stopped him. A pleased smirk stretched Enola's lips and she turned around to step away from him, royally ignoring his enraged glare on her, while Ichabod and Abbie were doing their best not to smile too wildly : now it was the Horseman's turn to get his arse kicked –at last. It was right at this moment that the vampire stepped on something thin and hard. She looked down and frowned : the something was the silver chain of a necklace. _Is it what fell from the Horseman's coat ?_

"Is something wrong Miss Vallombreuse ?" Ichabod enquired.

"No, it's just…"

She bent and picked up the jewel : hanging on the silver chain, there was a magnificent emerald the size of a hummingbird's egg, set in a delicate silver bezel.

"This felt from our guest's coat when I grabbed it," she explained. "Oddly enough, I'm quite certain it doesn't belong to him. Although, who knows ?" she added with a smirk, which earned her a heated glare from said guest –who was still clearly in pain from her punch.

"This is not possible…"

Ichabod's whisper was filled with confusion and incredulity. Enola turned her eyes to him : he was staring at the necklace with the same emotions his voice contained.

"Crane ? What's going on ?" Abbie asked, visibly concerned by the haunted look on her partner's face.

Wordlessly, Ichabod reached out for the necklace and Enola gave it to him.

"You know it, don't you ?" she deduced. "You've seen it before."

She was answered by a series of sickening cracks accompanied by a strangled sound, and her eyes widened at the sight of their cause.

"Uh, guys…" she trailed off, pointing at Brooks.

They turned around just in time to see him lower his head –which had been thrown back a second before– and stare at them with utterly black empty eyes.

"It belonged to Katrina," he uttered with the same deep unworldly voice that had, for a second, escaped Enola's mouth only minutes before.

…

"Well, shit."

Ichabod lifted a sceptical eyebrow at Enola's deadpan comment.

"So, to sum up, your friend Abraham's life really _sucked_ at the end," she went on. "I mean, first his fiancé leaves for another man, and then he gets killed in the middle of a crucial mission. Although, _that_ was his fault. What an idea to duel in the middle of enemy territory !"

"I do not think he could reason any longer," Ichabod commented in a mild attempt to defend his late friend. "He was too furious for that."

A distracted hum was Enola's only answer : a terrible idea had just crossed her mind. _If I'm right, Ichabod's going to be devastated… No, no hasty conclusions. But that would explain much._

"Enola ? You okay ?"

Abbie's voice roused the young vampire from her bleak musing. She shook herself up and focused on what she needed to ask to confirm her intuition.

"I'm fine, I was just thinking… Ichabod, you said Abraham was killed by Hessians, right ?"

"Indeed…"

"And the Horseman was believed to be just another Hessian mercenary ?"

"Yes, why ?"

"I have a hunch but I need to know a few things before I share it," she explained. "I suppose Katrina gave back his presents to Abraham when she broke their engagement ?"

"Of course, but I do not see what you are trying to get at."

"One more thing : when did the sightings of the Horseman began ?"

Ichabod looked as if he had just been struck by lightning, which made Enola bite her lower lip with a certain sadness : it seemed she was right after all.

"No… No, it– it cannot be," the British man stammered, shaking his head, trying to refuse the horrible idea Enola was suggesting.

"Did you see him die ?" the latter insisted nonetheless.

Ichabod opened his mouth but no sound came out. He closed it, averted his eyes from her. _Well, I have my answer._ On his face, stubborn incredulity was fighting dismay.

"Abraham was _not_ an evil man," he declared. "Short-tempered, perhaps, and proud, but not evil. He _would not_ have sold his soul to Moloch."

"Not even out of pure rage and hatred ?" Enola pointed out. "Not even for a chance of taking revenge ? Believe me, it's extraordinary how strong, violent emotions can push you into making a life-toppling decision ; how they can prevent you from reasoning properly…"

She closed her eyes for a brief moment to push back the painful memories her words were bringing with them.

Betrayal. Crushing despair. The sun playing on her daylight ring. Her shaking fingers on the warm gold, slowly pulling at it.

"You're speaking from experience ?" Abbie deduced in a soft voice, noticing Enola's uneasiness : her lips were pressed together in a thin line, her brows furrowed, and she was gripping the edge of the small table so hard her knuckles were white.

Although she was probably controlling herself not to shatter the wood.

"Yes," the vampire confirmed, snapping her eyes open.

She focused on their present problem and locked up the bad memories at the back of her mind. _I'll deal with them later… much later._

"Are you suggesting that Crane's friend… is the Horseman ?" the police lieutenant went on in an incredulous tone.

"Makes sense," Enola replied, shrugging. "How else do you explain that he has Katrina's necklace ? Or that he defied Moloch's orders to wait for Ichabod ?"

"You think he was blinded by his desire for revenge ?"

"Yes. Ichabod, you okay ?"

The latter was staring at the Horseman through the window as if he was trying to reconcile the image of the creature in front of him with the memories of his friend. Enola went and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey… I hope you're not blaming yourself for his choice," she said softly. "If it's really him, I mean."

"She's right Crane," Abbie added. "If the Horseman really is your friend, it's _not_ your fault. _He_ made that decision, not you."

He only pursed his lips in answer and Enola held back an annoyed sigh. _Please don't start talking about–_

"I violated his honour," Ichabod uttered grimly.

 _Aaand bingo._ Anger flared in her chest at his backward reasoning. She had always been annoyed by men's excessive sense of honour in some of the books she had read, and being directly confronted to it did nothing to improve her feelings. Not that she thought honour wasn't important, but in a reasonable amount ; duelling someone over a stupid insult wasn't a sign of honour but of an inflated ego. _And so is duelling someone over a decision he didn't make or even prompted, for that matter_.

"Oh for the gods' sake !" she burst out. "That's _so_ eighteenth century ! Abbie's right, people make their own decision ! You _did not_ force Katrina to break their engagement, you _did not_ start this duel in the middle of enemy territory, you _did not_ compel him to sell his soul !"

She was yelling now, and she was pretty sure the Horseman could hear her –noise insulation hadn't been Jefferson's primary concern when he had designed the cell– but she didn't give a damn. Nor did she care about Ichabod's shocked expression at her sudden anger.

"It's not his honour you wounded but his _fucking bourgeois macho pride_ !"

"Calm down Enola !" Abbie intervened, grabbing the young woman's arm, and the latter had to refrain from reflexively shoving the Witness's hand away. "Besides, we don't even know for sure the Horseman is Crane's friend."

The vampire clenched her teeth and pushed back the urge to let her human mask drop. _Control yourself,_ she chid herself. _Ichabod doesn't deserve to be yelled at. Count to ten. Or rather twenty._ She took a deep breath and released it slowly, forcing her anger to subside gradually, but it wasn't enough. She suddenly felt as if the surveillance room had got a lot smaller.

"I need some air," she mumbled, running a hand across her face. "I'm going to fetch a weapon, just in case…"

She trailed off and gestured towards the turned-off UV lamps.

"We've guns stashed in the tunnels," Abbie informed her.

"I wasn't talking about a gun," the vampire replied. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Don't worry, I can find my way out. I'll follow my own scent."

And with these words, she exited the surveillance room, crossed the cell with a glare at the Horseman, and disappeared through the round main door, which she carefully closed after her. The Witnesses exchanged a half-amused, half-impressed glance.

"Well, she has a temper," Ichabod commented with a lopsided smile. "If she had been with us the day Abraham died, she would have hurled the worst insults at him, and her shouting would have alerted the enemy before the duel had even begun."

"Yeah, and then she'd have vented her anger on the Hessians," Abbie smirked. "But seriously, I just hope she'll control herself better than that in the future," she added with a frown. "I don't want her to screw up a mission because of a fit of anger."

…

Enola was running. Not at her vampire speed though, she didn't want to cross the cemetery too fast ; she relished the cool wind on her face, focused on her steady breathing, on her muscles' effortless working ; on the way moonlight discoloured the tombstones and gleamed on the wet grass ; anything to keep the painful thoughts at bay.

She'd have to apologize to Ichabod : she hadn't meant to snap at him like that. She hadn't been angry at _him_ , but at Abraham van Brunt for his pride, his inflated ego, his machismo… the utterly foolish, life-ruining decision he had made out of anger and vengefulness.

_And here we are. Painful thoughts…_ _Kick them down the front stairs and they'll come sneaking rou_ _nd the back._

She knew exactly why she had been so irrationally angry at Ichabod's friend –because, really, what he had said two and a half centuries before _shouldn't_ touch her that much. It had reminded her of her own naivety, her own rash emotional choice. A choice that had ended her normal life –hell, ended her _life_ – on the promise that she would never be alone in this. A promise broken not a year ago. And now she _was_ alone to watch her friends and family wither and die while she remained untouched by time… Physically, anyway. Psychologically… She refused to think of her mental state after several centuries –or even after one century– of life.

Enola bit her lower lip. Now was _not_ the time to wallow in self-pity. She needed to grab her katana and come back to the cell, _fast._ Without the UV lamps, the Horseman was getting stronger by the minute. She switched to vampire speed and, when she reached her block of flats, she got in the same way she had left : through the window. She rushed into her bedroom and threw herself on her knees to grab the sabre carefully tucked under her bed. She indulged herself in a few seconds of delighted examination : it really was a magnificent weapon. The sheath was made of dark blue lacquered wood and a white silk ribbon was tied around its top ; the round golden metal guard was decorated with openwork, and the dark blue cylindrical hilt was almost completely covered by a lacing of white silk, under which a golden brooch representing a leaping tiger was visible.

She was thrilled by the idea that her katana was about to be used against real foes ; that her fifteen-year-long training was about to be put into practice.

She jumped on her feet and vampire-sped back to the tunnels.

The fighting had already begun : gargoyle-like creatures were popping out everywhere and their screeches were echoing in the tunnels. Enola tied her katana to a belt loop of her trousers and rushed towards the gunshots. She arrived just in time to cut down a demon lunging at Abbie with a swing of her sabre ; the creature exploded in a cloud of thick black dust.

"I'm just in time for the fun, I see," the vampire grinned.

"I don't know if I'd call that _fun_ , but yeah, you're just in time," the police lieutenant replied.

She had switched into full soldier mode : alert, her eyes scanning the tunnels, ready to react immediately at an attack.

"I take it you're Enola ?"

The latter turned towards the owner of the voice that had just risen : it was a young woman, apparently slightly older than Abbie, black-skinned too ; her long curly black hair was tied in a ponytail.

"That's me," the vampire confirmed. "And you are… ?"

"I'm Jenny, Abbie's sister."

"Oh. You don't look very much alike."

Which was true : Jenny's face was much squarer than Abbie's, but they had the same big brown eyes, currently filled with the same hard determination. Jenny was holding a gun too and, given her stance, she was a skilled fighter as well.

"Anyway, it's nice to meet you," Enola went on.

"The feeling's mutual," Jenny answered with a small smile. "By the way, you'll have to tell me how you got involved in that mess."

"Of course," the vampire accepted. "Now, it's not that I don't enjoy our little chat, but we've got arses to kick, right ?"

"Indeed," Abbie chimed in. "Enola, could you go to the cell ? Ichabod's still in there, and if these creatures are here, I guess it means the Horseman's free too."

"No problem," her partner promised, all trace of humour gone from her face to be replaced by cold focus. "But I'll need directions."

A couple of minutes and half a dozen of gargoyles later, Enola threw open the round door of the cell and charged in… only to stop dead after two steps : Ichabod was lying on the stone floor, a sword in his hand ; the Horseman was towering above him, equally armed, but he didn't seem eager to finish the Witness. She wouldn't take the risk though : the threw herself at him at full speed, and her punch sent him crashing into the brick wall which cracked under the impact ; chunks of brick and mortar flew in all directions while the Horseman collapsed. Ichabod immediately scrambled on his feet and backed away.

"You were right Enola," he declared, his eyes not leaving the Horseman who was –to Enola's satisfaction– struggling to heave himself up, "this is Abraham."

The vampire only nodded, feeling it wasn't a good time for the _I told you so_ line

"What is the situation in the tunnels ?" the Witness asked with concern.

"The others are fighting gargoyle-looking demons," she answered in a strained voice, also staring at the staggering Horseman. "They were fine when I left them. Any idea how the demons found us ?"

"We can thank Officer Brooks for that."

 _What ?!_ Enola spared a glance at the undead policeman : he was holding a strange golden disk, thick and embossed with crudely-shaped skulls.

"What's that thing ?" she curtly asked.

"It's called a Thracian Phiale," Ichabod explained. "If one recites the proper incantations over it, it can lift hexes."

Anger boiled inside her ; her upper lip curled up, a low growl rolled in her throat, her eyes narrowed and if looks could kill, Brooks would have been reduced to a smouldering pile of ash.

"In fact, it's _your_ heart I'm going to rip off," she snarled.

The policeman gasped as his eyes turned black again, and the eerie voice came out of his mouth in a deep chuckle – _seriously ?!_

"I am afraid it would be useless. Only Moloch can allow him to die… _Enola_."

The vampire immediately tensed up at his use of her first name and her grip on her katana tightened ; his taunting gaze almost sent her off the edge.

"It's _Miss Vallombreuse_ to you… Mr van Brunt," she hissed, trying very hard not to lunge at him and break every single bone of his body.

She smirked with satisfaction when he bristled at her use of his name.

"Oops… Apparentlythat hit a nerve," she purred.

That sent _him_ off the edge : he launched himself at her, every precaution forgotten ; Enola took a split second to push Ichabod out of his way before stepping aside with a twirl and a savage laugh, letting the impetus-carried Horseman brush past her, to better ram her elbow right in the middle of his back. For the third time that night, he ended up sprawled on the ground. He rolled on his back… and then Enola was on him –literally. She had sheathed her katana and was now kneeling astride him, pinning his wrist above his hea– neck. Their position would have been sensual if she hadn't looked so fearsome with her bloodshot eyes and her upper lip curled up to show her fangs, and if he had been less, well… headless.

"I dream of the day we find something to destroy you," the vampire hissed. "In the meantime, I'll content myself with ripping your heart off. Maybe it'll make me feel better."

She was aware that she was being cruel, but she didn't care : bloodlust was loudly singing in her, and she had to show him just how dangerous she was. She transferred one of the Horseman's wrist to her left hand, and as she raised her right arm, her fingers contorted into claws, the metallic taste of excited anticipation filled her mouth ; she could already feel the flesh give way under her hand, hear the ribs crack… Her prey arching under her only fuelled her exhilaration. Somewhere on her left, Andy muttered something in German but she didn't pay it any attention, and prepared herself to strike…

"Watch out !"

Ichabod's warning came too late ; or rather, the gargoyle-demons appeared too suddenly. Enola raised her head just in time to have half her face slashed by a clawed grey hand : the impact flung her away from the Horseman with a cry of pain. Through the eye that wasn't covered in the blood flowing from her forehead, she saw the demons grab the Horseman and Brooks.

"Tell Abbie I'm sorry," the latter pleaded.

And then, in a cloud of white smoke, they were gone.

…

"I suppose that could have been worse."

"Indeed. I have no doubt that, without your intervention, Abraham would have killed me. I thank you."

Enola waved a dismissive hand with a smile.

"There's no need to thank me," she asserted. "We're partners, right ? That's what partners do : they watch each other's back."

"How very true," Ichabod approved, smiling too.

"Well, at least we know the Horseman's weakness now," the vampire sighed, absent-mindedly brushing her now healed cheek.

The Witnesses exchanged a surprised glance.

"Really ? And what would that be ?" Abbie asked, a bit sceptically.

At the second Enola opened her mouth to answer, the lights came back on in the Archives with a short buzz.

"At last !" she exclaimed.

She and Abbie blew the candles on the table they were sitting at, and Ichabod looked a bit disappointed.

"Truth be told, I prefer candlelight," he declared, lifting a cup of tea to his lips.

"It sets a certain mood," the lieutenant conceded with an amused smile. "Anyway, what were you about to say, Enola ?"

The latter, who sat at an end of the table between the Witnesses, put her elbows on the table and leant forward.

"Ichabod, you said Katrina told you Moloch is holding her in Purgatory for a specific reason, right ?" she asked.

"She did, yes," the British man confirmed.

"What if… she's being held as the Horseman's… that is Abraham's… prize ? It would be logical : I doubt Abraham sold his soul to Moloch without asking for something in return… What if this something is Katrina ? From what you told us, I'd say that's what he'd want the most."

Ichabod seemed struck by horror at the suggestion and disgust was written on Abbie's face.

"Charming," the lieutenant mumbled.

"My God," Ichabod breathed. "You are very likely correct."

His face hardened with a mixture of anger and determination.

"And I shall _never_ let that happen," he vowed. "Katrina's soul will _never_ belong to the Horseman."

Enola reached out and lightly squeezed his arm, looking at him with a promise in her eyes.

"Don't worry, Ichabod," she said. "No one here will allow it. We're with you."

"Yes we are," Abbie firmly approved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand FINI ! Well, as far as it concerns this episode of course...  
> Okay, so I'm going to skip a few episodes because Enola won't make them change much, so rewriting them would just be boring. The next chapter will begin during S1E13 : I really wanted to write this one because of the "dream" they have when they enter Purgatory -do you want to guess what will be Enola's ?- and also because it's Enola's first meeting with Katrina : since their relationship will take up a lot of room in the following chapters, I thought it was important to see their first encounter.  
> I'll update next week, so in the meantime, remember : all good things to those who wait !


	7. Bad blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the delay, I kind of... forgot to update... It won't happen again, I promise.  
> I known, the title of this chapter is the same than the one of the episode during which it begins. I guess the episode's title refers to Henry being Ichabod and Katrina's son, as well as the hatred he feels towards them. Well, in the case of this chapter, the blood in question is more litteral. You'll see...  
> Also, all the dialogues in this chapter are supposed to be in French, but for convenience's sake I wrote them in English -well, except for a small bit at the end.

Enola woke up with a jolt and bolted upright in her bed, wide-eyed, panting and completely disoriented… Wait.

_In her bed ?_

Something wasn’t right. She wasn’t supposed to be in _any_ bed. She had entered Purgatory with Abbie and Ichabod… Or had she ? It was so blurry… She could remember glimpses –a headless Redcoat, a brownish misshapen giant, a majestic crypt, an old map with lines converging towards a single point… But was it real ? It felt like a very vivid dream… One of those where you’re certain you’re awake.

Enola ran a hand through her tousled maroon hair. Something was very wrong. Only she couldn’t pinpoint what. She was certain of only one thing : she shouldn’t be there. And where was that, anyway ? She looked around her : this was obviously a bedroom –a small but comfortable one, and unnervingly familiar. Dim light was seeping through the shutters of the window on her left, allowing her to see the nightstand beside her, the book-filled shelves on the right of the window, the built-in closet and the chair –on which clothes had been thrown– in front of her ; on her right, beyond the bed, stood another bookshelf, and a picture hung from the wall on its left. The door was in the right hand corner of the room.

A sigh rising on her right nearly threw her out of the bed : she turned her head in its direction… and froze. There was a head emerging from the duvet. A clearly _masculine_ head. Light brown mane, thin angular face, thin lips. _And big blue eyes._

His eyelids were closed, but she knew it. She knew him.

_Daniel._

Nausea clenched her throat and for a second, she thought she was going to be sick. _No_. It wasn’t possible. She had nothing to do in his bed. _He abandoned me. He left me alone to face eternity._

… Did he ?

Gods, everything was so confused… She clutched her head in her hands and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to put some order in her thoughts. First : she was wearing a cotton tank top and shorts, to her huge relief. Second : she was in the bedroom of Daniel’s flat in Paris. Third : she had to leave. Now.

She slipped out of the bed and snuck towards the door ; her fingers were shaking when she reached out for the doorknob. They touched its smooth wood, wrapped themselves around it…

“If you’re trying not to wake me up, it’s too late.”

Enola nearly jumped out of her skin at the amused, slightly slurry voice that had risen behind her. She spun around and faced Daniel, sitting on the bed, his eyes still blurry with sleep but smiling warmly at her. Although his smile disappeared faster than a frightened rabbit in its hole when he saw her expression : it was a mixture of fear, disgust and uncertainty, and she was staring at him as if he were a ghost from her past.

“Enola ? Love, what’s wrong ?” he asked in an alarmed tone.

He left the bed and came towards her, but she recoiled until her back was against the door. He reached out to her but the growl that rolled in her throat, her snarl and her blood-filled eyes stopped him.

“Eno–”

“Don’t touch me,” she spat. “You _abandoned_ me for another vampire. You let me face eternity _alone_ !”

He looked so genuinely baffled at her words that she began doubting their truth. Still, she didn’t waver in her aggressive stance : it would take more than a doubt to throw herself in his arms.

“Enola”, he began slowly, carefully, looking at her straight in the eyes, “I would _never, ever_ leave you. Do you hear me ? I love you. Don’t doubt this. I love you.”

He sounded so honest, so firm, and his words branded themselves in her mind and her heart. Every single vague memory suddenly seemed to be only the remnant of some nightmare, and soon they were blown out of her mind like dust. Her human mask came back and she let Daniel embrace her. She nestled against him, her face buried in the crook of his neck, breathing his familiar scent –clean clothes and Armenian paper. So reassuring.

“I’m sorry,” Enola whispered. “I’m so sorry… I don’t know what came over me… I think I had a nightmare… An awful one. But I can’t remember it.”

“Sshh… It’s okay,” he soothed, stroking her hair. “It’s over now.” 

Yet Enola could still feel the ghost of her nightmare in her and she shivered, clutching Daniel’s T-shirt a bit harder. A small voice at the back of her mind was stirring, whispering to her that something was off, but Daniel’s voice snuffed it out.

“I know exactly what you need to feel better,” he declared with a falsely mysterious tone.

Enola pulled out from his embrace to look at him, lifting an equally falsely sceptical eyebrow.

“Oh ? And what would that be ?” she enquired, struggling no to smile.

He knew her well : she was perfectly aware that whatever he had in mind would indeed lift her spirits.

“Come with me.”

He took her hand, led her out of the bedroom to the living room/kitchen, and made her sit down on the couch. Then he went to the dishwasher in which he picked two clean rocks glasses before going and rummaging into the fridge. Enola was content to watch him, his precise gestures devoid of any superfluous movement, his long fingers holding the glasses, his T-shirt suggesting his well-built torso and showing his toned arms, his attentive expression as he was searching the fridge.

Everything was perfect. Well… almost perfect. That little voice at the back of her mind was still there and still buzzing its warning like an annoying insect. But it wasn’t enough to break her peace of mind ; she felt like a castaway who had found dry land after days spent clinging to a raft tossed around on a wrathful sea : she hadn’t the desire nor the courage to question the safety of her refuge.

“Ah ! There you are !”

Daniel’s exclamation roused Enola from her thoughts and she focused on her boyfriend, who closed the fridge and proudly waved a blood bag in her direction ; the scent drifting from it was unmistakable and Enola’s face lit up.

“AB- ?” she asked with an eager smile.

“Yep,” Daniel confirmed, joining her on the couch.

“You know me too well,” she commented, grinning.

He chuckled, opening the blood bag and pouring the blood into the glasses before handing over one of them to her. She lifted the glass to her nose to enjoy the rich scent of the AB- blood –the rarest blood group and, most of the time, the best ; her eyes were closed and she missed the malicious glint that flashed in Daniel’s eyes. Suddenly, the sound of a small bell being struck twice reached her ears and made her open her eyelids.

“That’s my phone,” she sighed, lowering her glass.

She put it back on the wooden coffee table in front of the couch and grabbed her mobile phone, which was lying on the table. The text was from her mother, and she smiled fondly : of course her mother would remember she’d soon begin her internship in one of the numerous Parisian primary schools. Enola sent a reassuring answer, then put her phone back on the table and took her glass of blood.

“My mother,” she specified when she met Daniel’s inquiring gaze.

“Did she want to know whether you’ve killed someone yet ?” the latter joked.

Enola chuckled and shook her head.

“No,” she answered with a smile. “She trusts me.”

Which was true. Sure, her mother hadn’t approved of her daughter’s rash decision to become a vampire for Daniel, but she had never treated Enola like a monster, never assumed that she’d end up killing someone –neither had her father, for that matter. Even as a blood-sucking undead, she was still their daughter.

“Enola ? You okay ?”

She blinked and focused on Daniel ; she felt a bit guilty for being sad when her boyfriend was attempting to cheer her up with a glass of delicious AB- blood. But she wouldn’t lie to him –she never would.

“I’m going to miss them, you know,” she sighed wistfully. “My parents. They’ve always been there for me.”

Daniel took her hand and squeezed it lightly with a loving smile.

“I know,” he said. “But you’ll never be alone, even when they’re gone. I’ll be here for you.”

Enola simply smiled at him, her eyes shining with gratitude and love, and lifted her glass to her lips.

“I’ll always be with you. I promise.”

She froze, the rich blood barely half an inch away from her lips.

_Promise._

Never trust the promises of men. It was one of the three things her relationship with Daniel had taught her. Men always ended up hurting the women who cared about them. Men take, enjoy and dump.

_Promise._

Broken promise, broken heart. No, _crushed_ heart. Mangled heart. The impression that a chunk of it had been ripped off and the wound, rubbed with salt. And suddenly she knew what was wrong : the piece of her heart was still missing. She still wasn’t whole. Which meant…

“This isn’t real,” she whispered.

As if these words had been magic, all the memories came back. Abbie and Ichabod. The Apocalypse. The Horseman. Henry. Katrina. _The Purgatory._

She looked up and started with a gasp : Daniel’s face was contorted with devilish malice and his human mask had vanished. She leapt away from him and quickly backed off towards the small hallway, horrified, still clinging to the glass ; he got up too, slowly, and advanced on her.

“Took you long enough to understand,” he growled, and his voice was distorted.

Enola threw the glass at him but he ducked to avoid it and it crashed on the wall, splashing blood on the pale blue wallpaper.

“You missed,” he sneered.

 _All right. Run._ And she vampire-sped to the front door, followed by the warped voice of her “boyfriend”.

“Seriously, Enola, how could you think for even a second that this was real ?” the creature that had taken his shape went on.

She shook the doorknob, tried to break down the wooden panel, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Mais tu vas t’ouvrir saleté ?!” she cursed.

“Did you really think I’d come back to you ?”

 _Don’t listen to that thing. It’s not Daniel. Focus. Get out of here._ The flat was beginning to tremble and everything around her was shimmering with a dull white light : the dream was falling apart.

“Teaching you to be a good vampire was fun enough, but really, it got boring. _You_ got boring.”

The voice was coming closer. She slammed her body against the door with all her might.

“You think your _Witnesses_ like you ? They just need your strength and your speed. They’ll dump you as soon as this is all over. Or they’ll die before. And you’ll be alone… again and forever.”

The last words had been whispered in her ear. She whirled around, swinging her fist with a furious hiss… and the door opened behind her. With a shriek, she was pulled into a big white brightness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There. Now you know who turned Enola into a vampire, and why she doesn't trust men's promises ^^ And you know why I chose this title !  
> Next time : Purgatory itself, and first meeting with Katrina. You'll see that Enola is not as fearless as she seems... And because I was late in my update, I'll post the next chapter immediately, as an apology.
> 
> Translation :  
> "Mais tu vas t'ouvrir saleté ?!" = "Will you open you blasted thing ?!"


	8. A season in hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are : Purgatory itself ! Enola surprised me again : at first, I wanted her to be a bit unsettled by the place, but nothing big... And then, I found out that her feelings were much stronger than mere uneasiness. It's not actual fear, but... Well, you'll see. At least she agreed on the role I had planned for her regarding who remains in Purgatory.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter !
> 
> PS : A season in Hell is the title of a book of poetry written by the French poet Rimbaud.

Enola opened her eyes with a sharp intake of breath… and immediately regretted it when the foulest smell she had ever endured caught at her throat and pulled up her stomach : mould, decay, despair, _death_ ; a cold, thick smell that clogged her nostrils and her throat. Even the smell of Horseman of Death himself wasn’t as revolting : right now she’d have buried her nose in his coat if it meant escaping that stench. At that thought, she couldn’t help smirking. _The face he’d make if I did that !_ A picture of her hugging a completely flummoxed Horseman crossed her mind and she let out a giggle. She immediately slapped herself mentally : she was in _Purgatory_ , the gods dammit ! This certainly _wasn’t_ the place to be distracted. And she couldn’t see his face anyway. _Because he doesn’t have one… I wonder if he was handsome… I’ll have to ask Ichabod…_

This time she actually slapped herself and the pain, although light, was enough to clear her mind a bit. She blinked and took in her surroundings : she was in a sparse forest and it was night ; mist was floating among the trees, crows were cawing somewhere, and people –damned souls– were wandering aimlessly, paying no attention to her. She sat on the dead leaves-covered ground, with her back against a tree trunk ; Abbie and Ichabod were nowhere to be seen.

“Great,” Enola mumbled, pushing herself on her feet. “Please don’t tell me I’ll have to search the whole bloody place.”

She brushed aside the last shreds of cobweb lingering in her mind and looked around, hoping to see the familiar figures of her friends.

“We entered Purgatory together, so they can’t be too far,” she reasoned aloud.

She decided it was safer to look for the church where Katrina was in Ichabod’s visions : since it was her friends’ goal too, they’d eventually go there, right ? No need to spend hours looking for each other in this place… But still, she could call out to them a bit, just in case.

“Abbie ! Ichabod !” she yelled.

She strained her ears for an answer but none came. Enola bit her lower lip as anxiety began to build up in her : this place unnerved her… _scared_ her. It felt so cold, so dead, as if time had stopped, plunging it in an eternal night. And all those lost souls… She couldn’t bring herself to pity them : all she felt was uneasiness and disgust at their blank, sometimes disfigured faces, their jerky gaits, their slumped shoulders. The air was filled with their moans and she could hear unnaturally high-pitched sobs. And that _stench_ …

And then the noise began : it was as if someone was repeatedly and brutally striking  two low-tone piano keys at the same time, creating a perfectly eerie sound which finished freaking her out.

“Abbie ! Ichabod ! Where the hell are you ?!” she half-hysterically shouted, frantically looking around.

This time, much to her relief, she heard :

“Enola ?”

 _That way !_ She took off at vampire speed and, a few seconds later, she skidded to a halt in front of the two Witnesses.

“There you are !” she exclaimed with a broad smile, relief clearly written on her face. “Are you all right ?”

“We are,” Ichabod answered with a reassuring smile. “What about you ?”

“Physically, I’m fine. Mentally however…”

The vampire trailed off and pursed her lips, clearly uneasy at confessing her fear. Ichabod nodded in understanding.

“Yes, this place is rather unsettling,” he commented with a glance around.

“That’s the understatement of the year, Ichabod,” Enola sarcastically quipped.

Then she noticed Abbie eyeing her suspiciously.

“Uh… Abbie ? Did I say something wrong ?”

“How do we know it’s really you, and not another trick ?” the lieutenant asked, staring hard and straight into the vampire’s eyes as if to dare her to lie.

“Oi ! Of course it’s really me !” the latter protested.

She was about to go on when she noticed Abbie had visibly relaxed and was now exchanging an amused smile with Ichabod ; it was Enola’s turn to gaze at them quizzically.

“What did I say ?” she enquired, doing her best to keep annoyance off her voice.

She wanted to get the hell out of that place, and right now they were just wasting their time.

“You said “oi”, so yeah, it’s definitely you,” Abbie explained, still smiling.

Enola couldn’t help chuckling : for once, this tic of hers –which she had gotten by dint of watching and re-watching _Doctor Who_ and sometimes let slip– was being useful. However, the atmosphere of Purgatory soon caught up with them and ended their relaxed moment.

“Let’s go and find Katrina,” Abbie decided, suddenly serious again.

“Good idea,” Enola muttered. “I want to get out of here.”

They chose a direction and set off. Enola was pretty sure it was by a pure stroke of luck that they found the small white wooden church as quickly as they did. Although at second glance, she wondered if it could really be called _luck_ : the clearing in which the church stood was swarming with damned souls and their moans had become louder, scraping Enola’s mind like a chalk dragged on a blackboard by a sadistic teacher. Several of them had their heads wrapped in rough cloth, one was dragging what looked like a giant key, another was crawling on the ground, some were clinging to the wire netting protecting the tall windows, like insects.

“What the hell ?” Abbie incredulously muttered.

“A form of hell, it would seem,” Ichabod agreed with a low voice and a hard face. “Lost souls… searching for salvation.”

“Could we get in please ?” Enola all but whimpered.

The Witnesses glanced at her and frowned in unison : clearly the place was affecting the vampire even more than them. She was paler than usual, her breathing was too quick and her lips were tightened into a thin line, as if she was refraining from being sick ; her pupils were widened like two black swollen ponds and her hands were slightly shaking. But it wasn’t fear : it was sheer discomfort. Purgatory was grating every nerve in her body.

Maybe it was because of her being undead, Ichabod thought. Granted : since Abbie and he were alive, they had, in theory, nothing to do there either. But living people could be imprisoned here –Katrina was the proof of this : such was one of the rules of Purgatory. Now Enola… She was neither truly dead nor truly alive ; her soul was hers ; and she wasn’t even an undead created by Moloch –the master of the place. She _did not_ belong there, and it looked as if Purgatory was doing everything to let her know how unwelcome she was.

“Let’s go,” Abbie simply said, and the vampire cast her a grateful glance.

They quickly made their way among the lost souls and stormed into the church ; Ichabod closed the door behind them and barred it with a wooden beam. Enola sighed with relief : inside the church, it was warmer, brighter, and much _quieter_. True, it still felt as if time was frozen, but death’s presence wasn’t nearly as strong and oppressive as in the woods.

“My love… No, no, no !”

Enola turned towards the owner of the panicked voice : it was an apparently human woman in her early thirties, tall, slender and pale-skinned ; she had a beautiful face –square but soft, with thin pink lips, a small nose slightly upturned, big pale green eyes, and framed by long wavy dark ginger hair. She was dressed in a colonial black short-sleeved dress, sharply contrasting with her white skin.

“I begged you never to return here !” she continued, walking towards Ichabod.

“What do you know of the secrets of Washington’s Bible ?” the latter briskly asked, joining her halfway.

Enola frowned disapprovingly. _Seriously Ichabod ? I thought we were here to rescue her, not to ask her for information !_

“Only that he wanted to ensure that it found its way with you,” Katrina answered, clearly confused.

“Among its revelations, it holds a map, allowing us to summon a doorway to and from this place,” Ichabod explained. “Now, the second Horseman will ride into the mortal realm this very day... And you can stop him. You'll finally be free from this place,” he added, and his voice was thick with emotion.

_Ah, there’s the loving husband. Good._

“We’re gonna bring you home,” Abbie added with a confident and reassuring tone.

But instead of the joy she –they– expected, there was only fear on Katrina’s face.

“Oh no, I can’t,” the witch breathed, shaking her head.

Enola frowned again, this time incredulously. _What ?!_

“Of course you can,” she intervened, stepping away from the pew she had been leaning against. “We’ll even help you pack. Anything to get out of here as soon as possible.”

Katrina eyed her with curiosity.

“Who are you ?” she asked.

“Enola Vallombreuse,” the vampire introduced herself with a slight bow. “I’m a friend of the Witnesses’ and I’m here to help them free you.”

“I am grateful, but no soul can leave this place without being granted forgiveness,” Katrina explained. “To leave without it… It would break down the walls between the worlds.”

“I can't accept that,” Abbie snapped. “We didn't come this far to get dinged by some metaphysical technicality.”

“I agree,” Enola said, a bit impatiently. “The world isn’t going to end because we saved a soul that doesn’t deserve to be here in the first place.”

“We're not leaving without you,” Ichabod declared. “With war's arrival, our destruction is assured either way.”

At these words, Katrina averted her eyes from them and pressed her lips together in a mixture of indecision and embarrassment, which made Enola frown. _What’s going on here ?_

“What are you not saying ?” Ichabod asked, understanding his wife’s expression better than his friend.

The witch hesitated and Enola’s impatience reached new heights ; she breathed deeply several times and as discretely as possible, and it took all her will not to grab Katrina’s shoulders and shake her while yelling at her to spill the beans. _Oh how I’d like to smash something… One of these pews perhaps…_ But since it wouldn’t be very discreet, she had to content herself with clenching her fists as hard as she could.

“There's no time for indecision, my love,” Ichabod insisted gently.

“There is... an alternative,” his wife finally began. “One that requires a sacrifice of great cost, one I _cannot_ ask.”

“Spill it,” Abbie pressed calmly.

Katrina hesitated again, her eyes travelling from her husband to the lieutenant and Enola –who had closed her eyes and was pinching the bridge of her nose ; she was grinding her teeth so hard that soon, she wouldn’t have any of them left, but she thought it was better than hurling insults at her friend’s wife.

“My soul can leave this realm... But only if another were to take my place,” Katrina eventually confessed.

Enola’s eyes snapped open, Ichabod took in a sharp breath and Abbie bit her lower lip.

“Please, I beg you, leave before none of us can,” Katrina pleaded without waiting for their reply.

“If one of us is to remain here in order to set you free... It shall be me,” Ichabod decided.

“Certainly not,” Enola snapped.

The very idea of doing what she was about to suggest made her nauseous, but she couldn’t see another solution.

“I’ll stay,” she went on, folding her arms, almost unable to believe she had actually said it. “Abbie, Ichabod, you have to stop the Apocalypse ; and you, Mrs Crane, are today’s mission, and we _always_ finish our missions. Besides, you’ve spent more than enough time in here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Abbie grated, grabbing her friend’s arm. “That place is getting at you even more than us, you’ll end up mad !”

“Then what do you suggest ?” the vampire almost yelled, her self-control fraying by the second –and the decision she had just made didn’t improve her mood.

“I’ll stay,” the police lieutenant declared.

“That is _not_ an option,” Ichabod protested, pointing a finger at her. “And this is true for you too, Enola.”

“I have to face him, Crane,” Abbie insisted. “Moloch. I can't keep running away ! I won't !”

“Leftenant...” Ichabod trailed off with a warning tone.

“I'm not asking for your permission. “You did not ask me for mine when you decided to end your life before you knew that Parish could separate you from the Horseman.”

“And then you very wisely convinced me there is always another way.”

“This is the _only_ way !” the lieutenant burst out. “We were chosen for this,” she went on, more calmly but her voice no less filled with conviction. “To sacrifice ourselves so that humanity can endure, so that people can choose their destiny ! It's my turn, Ichabod.”

The latter looked perfectly dismayed, all the more so as he couldn’t find any argument to refute his partner’s.

“Moloch warned that I would deliver you to him, and here we are,” he all but growled bitterly, and there was a hint of self-disgust in his voice. “If we do this, his prophecy will be fulfilled.”

“No it won’t,” Enola intervened.

Her arms were still folded and she was staring hard at Abbie.

“Because I’m staying with you, and I won’t let that creature take you,” she declared with much more courage and firmness than she actually felt.

It wasn’t Moloch that frightened her, not really : it was the perspective of staying longer in Purgatory. _I’ll be lucky if I don’t turn mad after a few hours._

“Enola–” Abbie began with a disapproving look.

“No !” the vampire cut her off. “Don’t waste your breath. I’m staying and that’s final.”

This time, Abbie’s gaze filled with gratitude as she understood Enola was truly adamant. The young woman was really a gift from God, she thought for the umpteenth time. Sure, she was quick to anger –although she made considerable efforts to rein in her temper– and sometimes her bluntness bordered on tactlessness, but she was a very skilled fighter, a good person, she was clever and humorous and kind –at least with her friends and innocent people, not so much with her enemies– and above all, she was an unerring friend. Which she had just demonstrated again.

A sudden and distant snarling startled them. _Moloch._

“We are out of time,” Katrina said urgently.

She removed the necklace –a bronze medallion, embossed with a pentacle, on a chain– hanging from her neck and put it around Abbie’s.

“This amulet was bound by the Sisterhood of the Radiant Heart,” she explained. “It will protect you from Moloch… I am sorry, I only have one,” she added, glancing worriedly at Enola.

The latter dismissed the apology with a wave of her hand, trying to ignore the dull sound of nearing heavy steps.

“It’s okay, I’m more than capable of defending myself,” she said with a strained but sincere smile while Ichabod and Abbie said goodbye to each other.

“Oh ?”

“Well, I’m a vampire,” Enola confessed, “but I’ve never killed anyone,” she hastily specified before Katrina’s surprise could turn into fear and/or disgust. “I’m much stronger and faster than any human, I’ve even given the Horseman of Death a good thrashing,” she continued with a wry smile. “Ask Ichabod, he’ll tell you everything.”

The witch nodded, a bit reassured –about Enola’s harmlessness as well as her safety– but still…

“Moloch is much more powerful than Death,” she warned.

The vampire bit her lower lip as her face darkened.

“I know,” she sighed. “I’ll do what I can… I have to.”

A hand on her shoulder caught her attention and she turned around to see Ichabod’s worried face.

“I promised Abigail that I would come back for you,” he said. “I promise it to you as well. I will not leave you here.”

Enola forced herself to smile and squeezed his arm lightly.

“You’d better not,” she warned jokingly, but it was half-hearted. “Or I’ll haunt you for the rest or your days.”

Her words brought a small smile on her friend’s face… a smile that vanished when a massive humanoid figure, with two long curved horns protruding from its head, silhouetted itself behind one of the three tall stained-glass windows on the back wall of the church ; the creature banged its two fists against the window with a furious roar, making the entire building tremble.

“Go, go !” Abbie shouted, pushing Ichabod towards the church door while Enola did the same with Katrina.

Enola grabbed Abbie’s hand as they watched the other two reciting the incantation and the portal opening. Neither of them let go when they fled the church after their friends had disappeared.

 

…

 

“Well, at least no one’s dead,” Enola mumbled in her pillow –her _real_ pillow this time.

 _The gods_ really _have a fucking twisted sense of humour_ , she thought bitterly. Henry Parish, the sin-eater, was the fucking Horseman of War _and_ Ichabod and Katrina’s son ; and Katrina, after being trapped in Purgatory for two and half centuries, was now captive to the Horseman of Death, aka her ex-fiancé.

“Seriously, gods, do you have more like these in store ?” she grated.

Of course, no answer came. She sighed and gathered what was left of her energy to drag herself out of the bed, have a shower, put on her pyjamas and brush her teeth, all this while trying not to think she had class in the morning –she’d be on the other side of the desk, but still ; finally she allowed herself to collapse on her bed for the second time this evening.

Unsurprisingly, sleep was hard to find : memories of Purgatory kept invading her mind. The vampire shuddered and curled up into a tight ball under her duvet. Again and again, she heard the neck of the Ichabod-doppelganger snap, saw his lifeless body crumple on the ground. At the time, she had been _positive_ that it wasn’t Ichabod –his smell… it hadn’t been that of clean clothes and wool, but something cold and empty. She had prevented Abbie from touching the doppelganger, lunged at it and snapped its neck in the blink of an eye ; she hadn’t doubted her decision for a second, and the appearance of the real Ichabod right after that had confirmed she had been correct. But still, the sight of her friend’s corpse had shaken her ; she could still feel his skin and his hair on her palms, when she had grabbed his head and twisted it. And that sickening crack…

Next came Moloch : his hulking figure, his greyish leathery skin, his white hateful eyes, his long curved horns… Enola shuddered again : no, this picture wasn’t likely to go away soon. Even a kick in his chest, delivered with all her strength, hadn’t been enough to knock him down ; sure, he had staggered, but he hadn’t fallen. Katrina’s amulet had burnt him good though, Enola recalled with a slight smirk.

 _Right, stop thinking about that. Hmm… Think about what you’re going to do to Death once you get your hands on him. I’ll teach him to kidnap my friend’s wife…_ Especially since she already liked Katrina and had been impatient to escape Purgatory and befriend her. _Well. We’re going to get her out of his clutches. Simple._

Enola fell asleep wishing she could throttle Abraham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think she's going to have pleasant dreams...  
> I didn't rewrite Abbie and Enola's time in Purgatory because it would have been pretty much the same thing as in the series. There were only two major changes, so I preferred to use a short flashback to relate them. As you have read, the Ichabod-doppelganger lasted much less time than in the series. Superior senses are so convenient sometimes... Anyway.  
> This time, I won't skip any episode, so the next chapter will begin during S2E2. There's going to be quite a change from the series, and also some fighting. Really, Enola and Abraham have to stop meeting like that... Their relationship is soon going to make a big step forward -at least as far as it concerns the places and circumstances in which they meet. It won't begin in the next chapter, but in the one after. And now it's time I shut my trap or... spoilers !  
> And drop a comment, it's always motivating !


	9. Demons are a girl's best friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About the title of this chapter : it is the title of an album by the Danish psychobilly band Nekromantix ; I stumbled across it when I was looking for ideas for my chapter titles.  
> Expect some action in this chapter... And also a major change from the series' plot.

“This is insane !”

“Are you nuts ?”

Ichabod glared at Enola, the source of the offensive question.

“We are considering making a _carbon copy_ of the headless Horseman,” Abbie harshly pointed out, and the vampire nodded vigorously.

“Except, with a head,” Jenny supplied.

“This Kindred wouldn't just be a monster, it would be _our_ monster,” Ichabod argued. “One that fights for us... an equal to the Horseman.”

“Wow, wow !” Enola protested, raising her hands. “Hold on a moment ; let me get this straight : basically, you want to distract the Horseman while you go in and free Katrina, right ?”

“Yes,” the Witness approved. “And ?”

“And to stall him long enough, you need someone who’s a match for him in battle,” the vampire continued, and this time it was a simple statement.

They immediately caught her meaning, and a wave of protests filled the wooden cabin ; but Enola simply stuck her hands on her ears.

“Not listeniiiing !” she shouted like a child.

“Enola, come on !” Jenny sighed with annoyance. “We’re not going to _use_ you–”

“You won’t !” the vampire objected, lowering her hands. “I’m the one suggesting it ! Besides, it’s not as if you were throwing me to the wolves : you know I can defend myself ! You know I can beat the Horseman !”

The humans gestured as if they were going to disagree again, but Enola didn’t let them utter a sound.

“You don’t know if we can control that Kindred, or even if it will work at all ; maybe we’ll just be giving the Horseman his head on a platter,” she went on pulling the rug from under any argument they might have. “And if it _does_ work, what then ? How do we destroy it ? And what if it escapes ? Then we’ll lose the head, _and_ who knows what that creature could do ? Now, you _know_ I’m too fast and strong for the Horseman to defeat, and you _know_ you can rely on me without having to worry about my loyalty to you. Plus, since it’s to free Katrina, I _gladly_ give you my help. So, do you have any _valid_ objection ?”

Ichabod tightened his lips, Jenny shrugged with resignation and Abbie ran a hand through her hair, sighing. But, to be completely honest, Enola had just voiced her own doubts : so even if she was still reluctant about using her friend as a bait, Abbe couldn’t pretend that her offer wasn’t convenient.

“No, we don’t,” she therefore answered. “Thanks Enola.”

“Oh, it’s okay !” the latter chirped, flashing the lieutenant a bright smile. “Besides, I rather like the perspective of beating the shit out of the Horseman again…”

“You know, I think I’m going to get some popcorn and enjoy the show,” Jenny smirked.

“Please do not be unnecessarily cruel,” Ichabod bade. “I know he has caused much suffering, but we should not do the same.”

“Spoilsport,” Enola teased, playfully punching his shoulder, her golden eyes twinkling with mirth. “All right, I promise. But I’ll do what I must to keep him off your backs, even if it means breaking his two legs,” she continued a bit more seriously, her gaze travelling between the three humans.

“Of course,” Ichabod conceded. “As long as bone-breaking is the last resource.”

“Enola’s right, you’re such a spoilsport !” Jenny exclaimed with a smile that contradicted her reproach.

“ _Fine_ ,” the vampire sighed dramatically, throwing her arms in the air. “But it’s really because it’s you.”

“Oh… I am flattered,” the British man bantered with a wry smile.

“It won’t work for anything, so don’t let it go to your head,” Enola joked. “Anyway… When will we do this ? Tonight ?”

“No, tomorrow night,” Abbie answered. “I have complete trust in you fighting skills, but I’d rather be well-armed, just in case.”

“Yeah, with our luck Death will be receiving the other Horsemen for dinner and we’ll have to fight the four of them,” the vampire said sarcastically. “Ah well. The more the merrier, right ?”

 

…

 

“Two hours ago I was teaching French to teenagers. Now I’m about to fight one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse.”

“At least your life isn’t boring,” Abbie pointed out with a smile. “Ready ?”

Enola tightened the knot of the _sageo_ around the belt loop it was tied to, checked that her katana was smoothly sliding out of its _saya_ , breathed deeply a couple of time to dissolve the last shreds of nervousness –after all, he was still the fucking _Horseman of Death_ – and nodded.

“Yeah, ready.”

She shrugged off her leather jacket, revealing the close-fitting black tank top she was wearing underneath, and tossed it on the back seat of the Land Rover ; the vehicle was parked on the earth trail leading to Willow Point estate, a good two hundred yards away from the building. The night had already fallen, bringing rollers of mist and thunder –yet it wasn’t even hot. Enola winced in slight disgust and refrained from rubbing her bare arms : it was so unnatural… all the more so as the rumbles of thunder were the only noises… There wasn’t even a breath of wind. Nature seemed to be holding its breath, just like the first time she had seen the Horseman. Fingers brushing her shoulder broke her out of her musing and she turned her head towards Ichabod, who looked a bit concerned.

“All you all right Enola ? Are you certain you wish to do this ?”

The vampire flashed a roguish smile at him and cockily lifted her chin.

“Of course I do ! What do I have to fear anyway, hmm ? I’ve defeated him before, and I’ll do it again tonight. Besides,” she went on more seriously, “the less time Katrina spends with him, the better.”

“Indeed,” Ichabod approved. “And Enola… Thank you again.”

“Oi !” the vampire protested, swatting his arm. “How many times do I have to tell you : _I’m your friend_. It’s normal for me to help you, there’s no need to thank me. Understood ?”

“Yes, Miss Vallombreuse,” the Witness answered with a half-amused, half-grateful smile and a low curtsey.

His theatricality made Abbie and Enola smile and shake their heads. But the vampire’s smile vanished a second later and she tensed up, her narrowed eyes fixed on the estate and her nostrils dilated, like a cat alerted by a strange noise.

“He’s coming”, she whispered, and her golden eyes flared at the perspective of the fight. “Hide.”

The Witnesses nodded and retreated –Abbie, towards the Land Rover and Ichabod, away from the path and towards the house– as hoof beats began to thump her eardrums. _So you think you’re the hunter. Let’s prove you wrong._ The thought of ambushing her prey made her mouth water and she let her human mask slide. She disappeared in the shadows with a feral grin.

 

…

 

Abraham strode into the stable and busied himself saddling Acheron, all the while trying to focus on tonight’s objective –killing Ichabod, who had so foolishly jumped right into the lion’s den– and _not_ on the fact that, _finally_ , he had good reason to hope that Katrina would be _his_. And this, of her own free will ! Amazing how he suddenly felt lighter. Almost giddy.

This thought made him scowl : the Horseman of Death wasn’t _giddy_ , for Moloch’s sake. In his annoyance, he pulled a bit too hard on the saddle’s cinch and Acheron snorted in protest, lightly head-butting his master.

“Sorry,” Abraham apologized with a smile and a pat on his stallion’s neck.

When he led his horse outside, the part of his mind still absorbed in thoughts of Katrina was quashed by the chill night air and the peals of thunder, and then only anger and vengefulness were left in him. Tonight, Ichabod Crane would finally die, and he felt a dark thrill at this idea ; he could already _feel_ the blade of his axe slice through his enemy’s neck, _see_ the shock on his face, the blood glisten under the moonlight. He fluidly mounted Acheron, grabbed his broadaxe and launched the horse on the earth trail leading away from his estate. A handful of seconds later, though, he pulled on the reins to slow down the stallion, frowning in confusion : no one was there, and yet he could see, parked farther on the trail, one of those stinking, noisy modern vehicles –a _car_ was it ? He brought Acheron to a stop, his eyes searching the darkness and listening intently –but there was no noise except for the thunder. Yet he felt he was being watched… like a mere prey. And Acheron had apparently the same impression, for he snorted and shook his head while nervously pawing the ground. Abraham stiffened and lifted his axe, ready to strike ; an uneasiness he had never experienced before was seeping into him. _The last time I felt that way…_

He heard a rush of air and something rammed his body like a cannonball, hurling him down his horse. He brutally landed on his back, barely noticing his assailant somersaulting away from him, and jumped on his feet as fast as he could. Enola was firmly standing in front of him, her arms folded and her head tilted ; she was gazing at him with a mocking smile and taunting eyes. Her wavy dark red hair was tied into a low ponytail and she was wearing–

He clenched his jaw and stubbornly stared at a point somewhere above her shoulder. Really, he would _never_ get used to those modern clothes. If she had chosen such tight-fitting trousers and bodice to unsettle him, then she was being successful. And given the way her mocking smile broadened, she knew it, which infuriated him : he would _not_ let that woman win the upper hand on him without even drawing her blade ! So he locked his eyes on hers –while crushing the thought that they were beautiful, large and so unusually coloured– and took his guard. She imitated him and her sabre sang when it slid out of its sheath. Her mocking smile hadn’t faltered but he wasn’t foolish enough to think she was underestimating him : her eyes had hardened and were following his every gestures, trying to find a flaw in his guard, to anticipate his next move.

A question remained, though : where was Ichabod ? Henry said he would come tonight to rescue Katrina, and yet he was nowhere in sight. He was certain Enola wouldn’t have come just to fight him, so… _Ah. Of course._ She was the distraction ; right now, Ichabod was probably running towards the estate, if he weren’t already inside… Fury erupted in him and the edge of his axe flared –fury mixed with a hint of hopelessness : he knew the young woman would never let him go back to Katrina, and knew she had the means to do so –the memory of their last fight was still fresh in his mind. He let out a growl she couldn’t hear : to hell if he lost Katrina without a fight !

Abraham lunged at Enola, swinging his red-hot axe in a deadly arc–

She had vanished.

The ground gave way beneath his feet when something swept his ankles and, again, his back collided with the ground. He rolled, pushed himself on his feet, expecting the pain of her sabre plunging in his body… Much to his surprise, he managed to get up unharmed : Enola was standing between him and his estate, a sarcastic smile hovering on her lips. It wasn’t difficult to understand that she was playing with him, like a cat with a mouse, and this enraged him further : he was the Horseman of Death, _not_ a toy, _not_ a source of amusement, _not_ a mere prey ! He glared at her, pouring all his fury and hatred in his gaze ; he knew she could feel it and hoped it would _burn_ her. Instead, she tilted her head and something inscrutable flashed through her golden eyes.

“I suppose you want me to stop playing with you,” she said flatly. “Fine. But it still won’t be a fair fight.”

And before Abraham could be surprised at her concession, she attacked. During ten good minutes, Abraham used every strike, every feint, every riposte he knew, in vain : she was stronger, faster, nimbler, and he was unused to her fighting style. He didn’t even graze her ; it was like trying to catch smoke with bare hands. Or trying to get past a barrier of whirling wind : each time he manged to take a step towards his estate and Katrina, a kick or a punch would send him three steps backwards.

He was going to lose Katrina, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He had never felt so helpless and it was _infuriating_! His rage was like a red haze over his eyes, fuelling the strength of his blows, and _useless_. Suddenly, while she was deflecting one his blows, Enola froze for a split second, her eyes lost their focus ; he didn’t even take time to wonder about the cause of her behaviour : he adjusted his stance, struck… and she dodged again, though narrowly. Then there was a blurry movement, something knocked his chest and, for the umpteenth time, he crashed on his back. At this moment, he heard what had distracted his opponent : heavy hoof beats, growing louder by the second.

War.

“Merde !” he heard somewhere above him –well, now he knew where her accent came from.

Just as he was sitting up, a booted foot pressed down on his chest, forcing him back on the ground, and Enola’s face entered his field of vision : her scleras were filled with blood and her canines had grown into fangs –which had betrayed her nature, even though she had said she wouldn’t tell him what she was ; not that knowing she was a vampire really helped him : Henry had made some research, but so far he hadn’t turned up anything else than the usual stories –garlic, crucifixes, coffins, sunlight, holy water, wooden stakes, et cetera. Problem : they had already established that she wasn’t a normal vampire since she could walked in the sunlight untroubled, so it was very likely none of those things would affect her.

“You should take a deep breath,” the young woman advised coolly, “because this is going to hurt.”

 _What ?!_ Before he could react, she vanished from his view ; pain exploded in his left shin and, a split second later, in his right one, accompanied by two sickening cracks. Enola didn’t hear his howl, nor the stream of curses hurled at her, as she rushed at vampire speed towards War.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fight against War will be a bit more difficult for our dear vampire...  
> So, yes... No Kindred ! They've still got Abraham's head ! I have plans for it, but I won't put them into motion before a good while. You'll have to be patient.


	10. At Death's doorstep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I got a bit distracted by the Doctor Who and the Star Trek fics I've begun to write...  
> Right, time for round two : Enola vs War. And after that... there's a surpriiiise !

Enola sheathed her katana and went for War, trying very hard to silence the sound of snapping bones echoing in her mind. She didn’t feel sorry for what she had just done –she needed Death off her back while she was fighting War– but, curiously, she hadn’t enjoyed doing it. _Am I growing soft ? Ah well. Now isn’t the time to ponder about that._ No, now was the time to do her best to reduce War to a pile of smouldering scrap ; and since she didn’t want her katana to suffer the same fate, she’d use her fists and feet.

The vampire grabbed War’s armoured wrist while dodging a cut that would have decapitated her, and wrenched him off his rust-coloured horse ; she did a backflip while the second Horseman landed with a big metallic clanking. She took her guard and let him rose to his feet ; she suppressed a shudder : she had already noticed that the creature was nothing but a black suit of armour, but now that it was standing in front of her, with its smell of brimstone and hot metal filling her nose, its emptiness was truly oppressive. She couldn’t feel its eyes on her as she did Abraham’s, its gestures were devoid of any emotion, and that black void beneath its helmet…   _By the gods, even Death is less lifeless_. Just an empty shell, and yet it exuded a cold malevolence, like a thick black oily smoke weighing on her, pressing on her chest. _The same malevolence as its puppeteer, I suppose. Parish must be watching through its eyes… Well, let’s not disappoint him._

They circled each other for a few seconds, each assessing the other, then War attacked : his flaming sword cut vertically through the air, but suddenly tipped into a backhand strike that would have ripped her stomach open had she not thrown herself on the ground ; she rolled, but didn’t get up : instead she swept War’s ankle with her leg. The Horseman collapsed heavily and noisily onto the ground and she jumped up, looked around… Ichabod was nowhere to be seen, but she spotted Abbie running towards the house, probably to fetch the former ; Death was struggling to get up, but with both his legs broken, it was a battle he couldn’t win.

Enola gasped when she felt something cold and hard clasp her left ankle in a painful iron grip, then yank on it… It was her turn to bite the dust. She rolled on her back just in time to see War, still clutching her ankle – _The bastard’s going to ruin my Dr Martens !_ – rise on one knee and lift his sword to plunge it in her heart. Fear tore her insides and she swallowed back a whimper –she refused to give Parish this satisfaction. _He can’t kill me like that, anyway… And I’m not done fighting._ At the last second, she rolled again, and the sword pierced the ground instead of her ; she leant on her hands, threw her right leg with all her strength and her foot collided with the armour’s chest. Pain rippled in her leg and she thought for a moment her kneecap had exploded – _dammit, the bastard’s fucking hard !_ – but at least War was shoved backwards and his grip on her ankle loosened enough for her to pull herself free and scramble on her feet.

“Shit !” Enola cursed when pain whipped her left ankle and her right knee.

 She carefully limped away from the Horseman, who was standing up ; fortunately, the pain quickly subsided thanks to her vampire healing abilities, just in time for her to dodge a sword thrust with a graceful whirl, then a horizontal cut with a backflip. Being limited to defence irked her, but she wasn’t stupid enough to punch War –all the bones in her hand would shatter. So kept on dancing around the black suit of armour –rolling, flipping and backflipping, whirling, arching, she let the blade cut the air an inch away from her body, let her opponent think he would strike her only to slip away at the last second. _What the hell are Ichabod and Abbie doing ?!_

Just as this thought crossed her mind, she heard Abbie yell :

“Enola ! We’re leaving !”

“Coming !” the vampire shouted back.

She dodged a last blow, dropped to the ground, swung her leg to sweep the Horseman’s ankle, then dashed towards the Witnesses at vampire speed, before her enemy even hit the ground.

“Where’s Katrina ?” she asked, throwing open the back door of the Land Rover and jumping in.

“I will explain later,” Ichabod said while Abbie turned on the ignition and turned the car around at top speed. “Are you all right ?”

“I’m fine, but I hope I didn’t fight _two Horsemen of the Apocalypse_ for nothing,” Enola grated, fastening her seat belt.

“You did not,” her friend promised. “But I would prefer to wait until we are safer… and more serene.”

Enola sighed and dragged a hand across her face.

“You’re right. I need to chill out. Let’s go to my place, I need some tea.”

 

…

 

“Wow. That’s very brave of her.”

“Indeed,” Ichabod approved, taking a sip of the mint tea Enola had prepared.

All three of them currently sat in the armchairs and couch facing the wooden coffee table and the television of Enola’s flat.

“So… I guess we should take that as a victory,” Enola went on, slouching a bit more in the couch.

“Well, our plan worked : we got to Katrina,” Abbie pointed out. “And now, she’s a mole. All this time, we've been in the dark, having no idea what Henry and Moloch are planning.”

“And now we have a way to find out,” Enola concluded with a wicked smile. “All thanks to your wife.”

“She's already revealed news about Henry,” the police lieutenant enthused. “They're designing again for Moloch's rise… This time we'll get ahead of them.”

Enola was about to –noisily– demonstrate her own excitement, but then she noticed just how concerned Ichabod looked : he was frowning and his lips were tightened into a thin pale line.

“Ichabod,” she called out softly, leaning towards him.

Her friend turned his gaze in her direction and met her golden eyes shining with comfort ; a gentle smile was gracing lips –a rare sight.

“She’ll be fine,” she reassured him. “She’s obviously a strong person and–”

She was cut off by the idea that had just crossed her mind. Ichabod lifted a surprised eyebrow and Abbie cocked her head.

“Although I suppose she’d enjoy some feminine company…” the vampire mused aloud.

Ichabod’s second eyebrow joined the first one, and Abbie looked at her as is she had grown another head.

“You’re not suggesting…” the police lieutenant trailed off, still uncertain if she had correctly understood her friend’s idea.

The latter shrugged.

“And why not ? I’d like to know Katrina better, and it’s not as if Abraham could kick me out.”

“No, but he can certainly try,” Ichabod countered. “It will be difficult for you to discuss with Katrina if Abraham keeps attacking you.”

“I guess I’ll just have to be persuasive,” Enola smirked. “I’ll play the _If you love her then you should care about her happiness_ card. It always works.”

…

 

The next day, taking advantage from her free afternoon, Enola took a cab that drove her to the edge of the woods. She was now trekking in the forest towards Willow Point estate. She walked for a good quarter of an hour before coming into view of the house ; she paused a dozen yards away and observed the wooden building, listening intently : she couldn’t see any movement behind the windows, nor hear a noise. The vampire frowned :  she very much doubted they were gone, so… She shook her head : it wasn’t as if either of them had any reason to make noise ; what was there to do except for sitting and talking ? _Yeah, I think Katrina could definitely use some feminine company_. Especially the company of someone who didn’t consider her as a prize to be claimed. She just hoped she’d be lucky and Abraham would _explicitly_ invite her in ; otherwise she’d have to explain the situation to him, and he’d realize that he could keep her out without even having to fight. She winced. _Won’t I look ridiculous if it comes to that…_

She walked to the door, lifted a fist, hesitated, and knocked gently. For a few seconds, nothing happened, then she heard the familiar heavy steps, and the door was thrown open. Enola gazed steadfastly at the towering headless man in front of her ; he was holding his broadaxe but didn’t make any move against her –she suspected it had something to do with the utter shock she felt in his eyes set on her.

“Hello Mr Van Brunt,” she greeted with a cheerful smile. “I’m here to see Katrina.”

The surprise turned to hostility and he shifted his stance, obviously ready to fight. The vampire sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Oddly enough, I knew you’d react like that. Look–”

“Abraham ? What’s going on ?”

Enola peered behind the Horseman and saw Katrina standing there, still wearing her black dress ; when the witch spotted her, her green eyes widened in surprise.

“Miss Vallombreuse !” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here ?”

“I’ve come to see you, of course,” Enola explained with a smile. “I thought you’d appreciate some feminine company.”

The witch open her mouth to answer, but her gaze suddenly shifted towards Abraham and she bit her lower lip.

“Abraham–” she began, but she broke off.

 _Is he talking to her ? How can she hear him ?_ She folded her arms and glared at her enemy.

“This is getting annoying,” she grated. “Let me guess : you don’t want me to come in.”

The intensity of his glare didn’t waver.

“Maybe I can extend the enchantment on my amulet so you can see him too,” Katrina cut in, taking a couple of steps forward. “The wards on the house weaken my powers but it is a simple enough spell…”

Enola’s ears all but perked up at the witch’s words. _You mean I’ll get to see his face ? Hell yeah !_ She had always been curious to see what Ichabod’s former best friend looked like, so now she wasn’t about to miss that opportunity.

“Go ahead,” she told Katrina.

The latter held in her hands the pendant hanging from her neck –it was the emerald locket the Horseman possessed when they had captured him– and whispered in Latin, her eyes closed and an intensely focused look on her face.

“Extendes venustas monile…” Enola made out.

Katrina repeated these words half a dozen times, and for a few seconds nothing happened. Then Enola blinked and when she opened her eyes, she started and her eyes almost burst out of their sockets ; for a second she thought she’d have to pick up her jaw from the ground.

“Ichabod had never told me his friend was that handsome,” she blurted out.

Her face immediately went as red as Abraham’s coat and the latter looked at her as if she was the one with no head. She’d have slapped herself. _Seriously Enola ? How old are you ? Get a grip, girl !_ Unfortunately, all her will couldn’t change the fact that Abraham was way too attractive for her own good : square jaw, thin pale lips slightly parted in disbelief, high round cheekbones, grey eyes still perplexed by her slip ; his long ash-blond hair was gathered into a low ponytail. _All right, that’s it, stop staring !_ She conjured up a picture of Daniel’s handsome face, and this was like a mental slap : a bitter taste filled her mouth and her face turned stern. _Yeah, handsome men really made my life a paradise_ , and the thought was dripping with so much sarcasm it nearly flooded her brain and leaked from her ears.

Abraham regained his composure as quickly as she did, and anger washed away all trace of surprise from his face. Enola repressed a start when, for the first time, she saw his glare. _And they say eyes are the mirror of the soul…_ If she had ever wondered what had filled the hole left in Abraham when Moloch had taken his soul, she now had the answer : anger. His grey eyes were filled with it, _burning_ with it, so intensely it was a miracle that they hadn’t burst into flames yet. Enola discretely frowned as she began to understand : Moloch had kindled his hatred for Ichabod until it had become _him_ , until there was nothing else left in him except for his equally fierce determination to claim Katrina as his ; had turned it against all life like a fire driven by the wind. The question was : how much of these feelings were the man’s, and how much was Death’s ? And also, could they be appeased, could they ever leave room for something else ?

Not that this fragment of understanding changed anything to her feelings towards him : she still hated him for trying to kill her friends and raise hell on Earth, still despised him for considering Katrina as some prized possession, something he was owed ; and she hadn’t forgiven him for trying to use her like a ventriloquist’s puppet.

“Anyway,” the vampire carried on, folding her arms –as always when she felt uneasy, “I’m here to see Katrina, as I said, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

“You will have to, because I will not let you in,” Abraham growled.

His voice, that she was hearing for the first time, startled her too : it wasn’t this hollow unearthly sound that had come out of Brooks’s mouth, but a perfectly human voice, deep and smooth –agreeable. Enola shook herself up again and it was her turn to glare at him.

“Oh yes, you _will_ ,” she retorted coldly. “Because you want Katrina to be happy, don’t you ? Since you love her so much…”

It had taken all her will not to pour any sarcasm into the word _love_ , because it would just have been like spilling gasoline on a fire. Maybe she’d throw that to his face later… For now she had enough to do with convincing him to allow her to see Katrina.

He looked conflicted now : part of his anger had subsided in favour of uncertainty. She refrained from smirking : she had hit home, as she expected.

“And exactly what makes you think that Katrina will be happy to see you ?” he asked with a hint of derision.

“Feminine intuition,” Enola shot back with a wry smile. “Mrs Crane !” she called out without warning, setting her eyes on the ginger-haired witch. “Do you want some company, or not ? If you don’t, I’ll leave without a fuss.”

Katrina’s first reaction was to gush _Yes, yes, YES !_ Someone to talk to without minding her every word ; someone to be around of without walking on eggshells. Also, she was quite curious about the younger woman : until she had met her, she didn’t know vampires even existed, and Enola didn’t look or act like a monster from legends. Plus, a woman spirited enough to brave Purgatory to rescue someone she didn’t know, _and then_ knock on Death’s door to visit her, was worth knowing.

Only she wasn’t eager to antagonize Abraham, not when she had to convince him she was on his side… Although, she was certain he’d direct his annoyance at Enola, not at her. The witch bit her lower lip : the temptation was too strong, and she had no real argument against it. Enola wouldn’t be there all the time, so she’d still have time to spy on Henry and Abraham… who would undoubtedly not hold a grudge against her… and she _really_ needed some company.

“I do,” she answered. “I would welcome your company.”

Enola lifted a triumphant eyebrow ; she was clearly holding back a smug grin, which drew an amused smile from the witch. A mixture of disappointment and irritation flickered on Abraham’s face but when he turned around towards the vampire, his scowl was back in place.

“And what tells me you’re not here as a spy ?” he spat.

 _You’re grasping at straws… Granted, this is a_ big _straw, but still._

“If that’s what it takes to see Katrina, then fine,” she huffed, rolling her eyes. “I promise I won’t listen to any conversation you and Parish might have.”

Abraham looked as if he had bitten into a lemon.

“Your promise is as worthy as the saliva you used to utter it,” he jeered.

“And yet, you’ll have to contend yourself with it. So, can I come in ?”

He glared at the infuriating woman for a handful of seconds before reluctantly stepping aside. If this was what it took to content Katrina, then _fine_. He’d just have to avoid the vampire.

“Come in,” he mumbled.

And he was practically dazzled by the broad, bright smile she shot him and by the happiness twinkling in her eyes… both utterly sincere. He blinked, but before he could decide which look to give her, Enola had brushed past him.

“Hello Mrs Crane,” she greeted with the same smile, taking Katrina’s hands into hers and squeezing them lightly. “It’s a pleasure to see you again !”

“The pleasure is mine, Miss Vallombreuse,” Katrina answered with her own soft smile. “Please, come… Do you want some tea ?”

“No, thank you… And please, call me Enola. Oh, one more thing…”

The vampire turned towards Abraham, who had closed the door behind her : her smile had disappeared, but she didn’t look hostile, just serious.

“I won’t apologize for breaking your legs yesterday, because I’m not sorry,” she declared calmly. “But for what it’s worth, I didn’t take any pleasure in doing it… Shall we, Mrs Crane ?”

“Yes… This way. And call me Katrina.”

The two women exited the room, and Abraham was still standing by the door, feeling as if he had been hit on the head with a hammer. First the smile, then this strange statement that was the closest thing to an apology she could manage… Had something changed ? Did she want something from him ? Was she trying to make her presence less unpleasant to him ? These theories were all highly unlikely, but…

He shook his head violently as his anger rose anew : she had already barged into in house, she would _not_ sneak into his mind ! He determined he would limit his interactions with the vampire to sword fights when they’d cross paths during their respective missions, and to formal greetings when she’d enter and leave the estate –the latter, only it if couldn’t be avoided.

… Amazing how life enjoys thwarting everything we plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ? So ? Did you see that coming ? Enola crashes Abraham's ! And she can at last see his head ! I'm going to have some fun, starting in the next chapter... By the way, don't worry, Enola hasn't grown soft : there's an explanation to her behaviour, I'll give it in a few chapters. Be patient !


	11. Tell the truth and shame the devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos, everyone ! I give you all a virtual hug !  
> Now, as you can imagine, things can't stay calm very long with Enola in Abraham's immediate vicinity. Also, there are some important things I need her to tell to -or yell at- Abraham. Things that explain why, in my opinion, he's so obssessed with getting Katrina back. Things that he needs to hear.

Enola looked around with curiosity as Katrina led her to her bedroom : at least Abraham  had taken care to ensure Katrina’s comfort. The place was well-furnished –albeit anciently so ; paintings hung on the walls, baubles and books filled the shelves, and all of them tasteful –she had to grant him that, at least. It was rather dim, though : Abraham was vulnerable to daylight, so the shutters were closed. Also, his smell of blood, dirt and rotten wood was everywhere ; fortunately, it was somewhat soften by Katrina’s scent of soap and herbs.

The witch’s bedroom was furnished with a metal-framed bed, a desk, a vanity, a bookshelf, two armchairs whose green velvet tapestry was faded, and a large chest that probably contained her clothes ; a painting hung on the wall above the head of the bed ; the shutters were open and a pale yellow light flooded the room. They sat in the armchairs and talked. And talked. And talked. Enola bombarded Katrina with questions about witches and witchcraft ; Katrina bombarded Enola with questions about vampires and werewolves –although the latter carefully avoided revealing anything about the ways to weaken and kill a vampire, just in case Abraham was keeping his ears a bit too open. They compared the condition of women in the eighteenth and twenty-first centuries, argued about fashion, exchanged their opinions about art. Enola promised she’d come back with history books borrowed from the highschool library, so Katrina could catch up on everything that had happened since her imprisonment.

Enola noticed that the witch didn’t laugh easily : she’d smile, sometimes chuckle, but she’d never really laugh. She spoke in a hushed voice, as if she were still in Purgatory and feared Moloch would hear her. _I suppose a two-century-long habit dies hard_. There was still something… haunted, at the bottom of her pale green eyes : the memories of her time in Purgatory were still clinging to her, and probably brought her back there when she slept. Although, the fact that she wasn’t completely crazed by the two centuries spent in that hellish place testified of her strength of mind, and Enola admired her for this.

As for Katrina, she was quite surprised by the contrast between the young woman sitting in front of her and the one she had met in Purgatory –nervous, impatient, irritable. Now she was talking with ease, laughing, even joking ; when she conversation broached a topic she took to heart, her tarnished-gold eyes would sparkle and her hands, flutter with vivacity ; in these moments, she radiated excitement as if her body was too small to contain it. But it didn’t take much –a word, a sentence– to fill her eyes and her words with sarcasm, sometimes bitterness.  Something bad had happened to her, Katrina could tell ; it had probably something to do with how she had become a vampire, because when she had asked her, Enola had tensed up, her face had darkened, and she had politely refused to answer. In these moments, her words would bite and sting like perfectly aimed arrows, and her irony would be as sharp as a razor’s edge. Katrina decided that she wouldn’t want to be at the receiving end of the vampire’s anger… as Abraham was. The witch mentally winced : her ex-fiancé and current captor was good with words too. _Oh God, if they fight, there will be blood._ And maybe not just metaphoric blood.

When Enola left, the night was falling. She returned the next evening, after school ; as she had promised she brought a couple of history books, an art book and several novels, plays and poetry books from her own collection, as well as half a dozen Tupperware containers and a gas cooker : she had decided she’d stay for diner –much to Abraham’s annoyance– so she had cooked and brought enough food for two. This time, Katrina and she settled in the living room where a fire was burning : three sofas and two square-back armchairs, with carved wooden frames, rolled arms, cabriole legs and plump cushions, were placed in a U in front of the hearth –two sofas and the armchairs flanking the fireplace, facing each other with a marble-topped coffee table between them, and the third sofa facing the hearth. The witch and the vampire sat down in one of the sofas close to the fire and the history lesson began.

Abraham chose to stay at home this night, to keep an eye on his unwanted guest ; he didn’t want her to turn Katrina against him, not when he was so close to having the witch all for himself. He grabbed a book to look busy and sat down at an end of the sofa facing the fireplace, where he had Enola in his line of sight. What he hadn’t planned was that he’d be actually _interested_ in the history lesson ; plus, Enola’s clear mellifluous voice, so different from Katrina’s soft one, didn’t help him focus –or even pretend to focus– on his book. Which irked him to no end. He kept stealing glances at her, just to keep watch over her of course : the orange light of the fire was playing on her heart-shaped face –funny how its soft features contrasted with her temper– , turning her irises into molten gold and setting the dark red waves of her hair ablaze ; her pink full lips were lit up with warm reflections that stressed their curves and their smoothness…

He almost face-planted himself into his book. _What the hell is_ wrong _with me ? She’s an_ enemy _for Moloch’s sake !_ He’d have to find something nasty to say to her… Maybe that would put his ideas back in place. As soon as the vampire declared the history class was over for this evening and began to show Katrina the literature she had brought, Abraham all but fled the room, which earned him a surprised glance from both women. Unfortunately for him, his torments weren’t over yet : he was pacing his bedroom –which he rarely used since he didn’t need to sleep– and kindling his rage towards Enola by calling to his mind the pain when she had broken his ribs and his legs, her inhuman face when she was about to rip his heart off, the flaming delight in her blood-filled eyes at the idea of doing so ; suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by… well, he assumed it was music. Or at least it was _supposed_ to be music. He barrelled through the house, stormed into the dining room, where the noise was coming from, and stopped dead as if he had hit a wall.

Katrina sat at the table with a mixture of amusement and perplexity on her face ; a copper saucepan –undoubtedly taken from the kitchen– was steaming on the device the vampire had called _gas cooker_ and a strange but not unpleasant smell was wafting from it ; another contraption was lying on the table, not far from the gas cooker : it looked like a small black box on top of which was plugged a thin blue rectangular plate with a black rectangle on it, and both were made of this modern material called _plastic_ ; the table had been set for two, and Enola’s boxes of home-made food were scattered across it. Enola was stirring the content of the saucepan with a wooden spoon ; she had removed her light blue cardigan, which left her in a long-sleeved _fitted_ white shirt.

She was dancing.

Her hips were gracefully swaying to the rhythm of the music and a rapt smile was playing on her lips ; she had raised her free arm above her head, and the movement had lifted her shirt, revealing a strip of milky skin between its hem and her trousers’ belt.

For a couple of seconds, Abraham’s mind was utterly blank as he stared at the exposed flesh of the young woman’s flat stomach, at her undulating hips that caught her thighs and her bust in their movement. A loud throat-clearing shattered his half-trance and he nearly started.

“My face is up here, Mr Van Brunt,” Enola snarked.

If Abraham could blush, his face would already be as red as his coat and so hot you could’ve fried eggs on it ; he hadn’t foreseen this particular perk of being undead… He was all the more mortified as he could have sworn he had heard a stifled giggle from Katrina. What was left of his pride was saved by his anger : so it wasn’t enough that she took pleasure in tossing him to the ground like a cumbersome sack of potatoes, now she was _ridiculing_ him in front of his bride-to-be ?! He managed to glare at her, but clearly she wasn’t fazed : she only rolled her eyes.

“Men,” she sighed with exasperation. “Dead or alive, you really are all the same, I swe–”

“What is that _noise_?!” Abraham blurted out before she could finish her sentence, hoping the change of topic would distract her.

It worked, much to his relief : it was her time to scowl, and she even stopped dancing.

“It’s not _noise_!” she protested emphatically. “It’s Michael Jackson ! _Billie Jean_! I always cook with music.”

He lifted an unimpressed eyebrow.

“And where does that… _sound_ … come from ?” he asked with disdain.

“From this,” Enola replied, pointing at the unknown black device. “It’s a wireless iPod speaker. Very useful. Of course, the sound’s not as good as with a hi-fi system, but it’s far from awful… I’ll bring it back tomorrow.”

 _What ?!_ She was going to keep on _polluting_ his home with more modern _cacophony_?!

“Is it a modern custom to invade someone’s home and to make a nuisance of oneself ?” he snapped.

Enola froze at the insult. _So you want to play that game ? All right then. Let’s play._ She took the time to calmly turn off the gas cooker –she didn’t want to burn the delicious Tom Yum soup she had prepared– and the speaker before levelling her gaze with Abraham’s ; she had schooled her features into an impassive mask but her eyes were as cold as his anger was burning. The air in the room was practically crackling with tension ; Katrina’s eyes were nervously travelling between the two enemies but she didn’t dare to move. The situation was going downhill, very quickly.

“And is it an eighteenth-century custom to abduct women and to imprison them in one’s house ?” she retorted icily.

He stiffened – _touché_ – and opened his mouth to reply but Enola pulled the rug from under him.

“And don’t tell me Katrina’s not a prisoner here,” she continued in the same tone. “She can’t get out, she can’t practice her magic, she’s afraid because she has no idea what Moloch is planning to do with her. I call that _being a prisoner_.”

In the bat of an eyelash, her face turned into the very picture of scorn and she lost her forced calm. _The leopard can’t change its spots…_

“And you _dare_ to say you love her !” she burst out in contempt. “Obviously you know _nothing_ about love ! When you really love someone, you put their happiness before your own, before _anything else_! You… You’re keeping Katrina from her husband, from the world, from her magic ; she remained in Purgatory for two and a half centuries for _your_ sake, waiting to be claimed like some kind of _prize_ !”

She let out a furious growl and slammed her fist on the table, so hard that the plates and the cutlery jumped a good inch.

“It’s not your _feelings_ she wounded when she broke your engagement, it’s your _fucking pride_ ,” she snarled. “The _only_ reason why you want her as your bride is to heal it ! You just want her by your side so you can pretend that nothing happened, that she has always been yours, _yours, YOURS_!”

She had roared the last word, so ferociously that Katrina cringed. As for Abraham, if there had been blood to be drained from his face, he’d now be ashen.

“You consider her as a _prized property_ !” Enola yelled, and her human mask began to slip. “You showered her in jewels, as if it could _buy_ her affection ! As if it would make up for the fact that she was being _sold_ to you ! You didn’t understand a _thing_ about her, did you ? You still don’t ! And then you blamed Ichabod for her actions ?! The only one to blame was _you_! But this didn’t even occur to you, right ? No, your ego was – _is_ – far too _inflated_ for that !”

Her hands were balled into fists so tight her knuckles were white, and she was breathing heavily ; her curled-up lip was showing her fangs.

“This is no _love_ ,” she growled. “This is pure possessiveness ! This is your wounded pride talking and leading you by the nose, without you even _knowing it_ ! Or rather, you know it but you refuse to admit it, which is _worse_! And–”

She was cut off by Abraham lunging at her with an enraged roar. She easily dodged his attack and let him skid to a halt, then turn around : his face was twisted with fury, which was radiating from him in searing waves. But this didn’t faze Enola.

“That’s all you have to answer ?” she scoffed. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised…”

“Enough !” Abraham growled.

And, blinded by his rage, he charged her again. This time, she caught the back of his collar, grabbed one of his arms and twisted it viciously in his back. He let out a painful grunt and tried to loosen her grip, but she was far too strong.

“You’re right, that’s enough,” Enola hissed venomously. “Why don’t you go outside to chill out ? Don’t worry, neither Katrina nor I is going to miss you.”

 She shoved him towards the front door so brutally he stumbled and almost bit the dust for the umpteenth time. Abraham stood there for a few seconds, with his back to the two women : his shaking fists were clenched so tight it was a miracle his bones weren’t breaking, and he was as stiff as a poker. Enola shifted her stance, ready to react in case he attacked her again. But he suddenly marched to the door, which he threw opened and stomped through ; he slammed it so hard the wood cracked. Katrina couldn’t help flinching with a grimace at the sharp sound. When her enemy was gone, all the tension left Enola’s body as she let out a shuddering breath. She went and collapsed on the chair next to Katrina and rubbed her forehead with another sigh.

“Sorry about that,” she eventually apologized. “But I’ve wanted to say this to him for a long time. Besides, I think he needed to hear it… Maybe it’ll prompt him to do some introspection. Although it may be too much to hope for… Ah well.”

“Did you mean every word you said, or did you just want to hurt him for insulting you ?” Katrina asked.

Her tone was carefully neutral, but Enola felt that the witch would get angry if her answer wasn’t the right one ; fortunately, the vampire didn’t have to lie to provide said answer.

“I meant every word I said,” she declared, looking straight into Katrina’s green eyes. “I don’t think I’m cruel enough to say such things simply to hurt him.”

The witch nodded and a small smile appeared on her lips.

“Well, with some luck he will realize that you are right, and he will release me,” she bantered softly. “But hopefully, not before I know what he and Henry are planning.”

“Hmph. I doubt it, but hey, we can dream. Anyway, I’ll go back to making dinner. I’m hungry, and so are you : I can hear your stomach grumbling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love psychoanalyzing bad guys... I did the same thing with Loki in my Avengers fic -which I haven't published yet. So what did you think of that ?  
> The next chapter will be set during the Weeping Lady episode : I think it's an important one because they discover another of Katrina's lies, which will have consequences on Enola's opinion of the witch.  
> Drop a comment if you've got some time ! I'm always interested in your opinions !


	12. Undead in the water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and the kudos ! They always make my day !  
> If any of my dear readers aren't familiar with English idioms : "dead in the water" means "no longer in action or under consideration" ; I tweaked the phrase a bit...  
> And here come Enola's first doubts about Katrina. Also, I've had some more fun with Abraham, but don't worry : he'll soon have his revenge -not in the next chapter, but in the one after. I really enjoyed myself writing it...

Enola was sipping on a blood bag she had just pulled from her small cooler, when David Bowie’s _Cat People_ rose from her handbag on the dinner table. She searched her bag with one hand, removing the straw from her mouth only when she had picked up her phone.

“Hey Abbie !” she cheerfully greeted. “What can I do for you ?”

“Enola, are you still at school ?” Abbie asked.

The vampire frowned : her friend’s tone was clearly urgent and she could hear the rumbling of her car’s engine.

“No, I’m at Willow Point estate, why ? What’s going on ? Do you want me to join you somewhere ?”

“No, stay where you are : something is coming for Katrina, the ghost of a woman Ichabod was promised to ,” the police lieutenant explained hastily. “She’s, er… rather jealous, and she knows Ichabod is married to Katrina.”

“Great,” Enola mumbled. “No rest for the wicked, huh ? What does she look like ?”

“A weeping woman dressed in black and soaked through. She drowns her victims.”

“Got it. I’ll keep an eye on–”

The vampire broke off when her superior sense of hearing caught a strange sound over the crackling of the fire in the nearby living room : it was like… sobs, but muffled, as if coming through a large amount of… water ?

“She’s here,” Enola shot out.

And without waiting for Abbie’s answer, she hung up the phone and threw it on the table along with her half-full blood bag, before flitting towards Katrina’s bedroom. She skidded to a halt in front of its door right when an angry eerie shriek rung out in the house ; she swung the door open just in time to see Katrina and the creature described by Abbie disappear into an inky puddle on the floor ; a small sheet of paper was floating on it.

“Katrina !” Enola screamed with horror.

She could hear Abraham rushing in her direction, undoubtedly alerted by the shriek, but she didn’t wait for him : she took a deep breath, ran and jumped into the puddle. Instead of her feet meeting the hard wood of the floor, she was engulfed in dark, cold, deep waters. _Holy shit ! Who the hell thought it was a good idea to create_ drownable _vampires ?!_ She spotted Katrina and her assailant further down in the water : the ghoul had ensnared the struggling witch from behind in her pallid arms and was dragging her deeper and deeper ; its black veils and dress, and Katrina’s white nightgown, were billowing around them and their long hair were madly waving about their heads. Enola swam to them as fast as she could and slipped behind the ghoul ; from there she grabbed its arms : the flesh beneath her finger was colder than the water, and squishy. She willed herself not to jerk away from the unpleasant touch. She wrenched the limbs from Katrina, making the creature screech in pain and rage, and twisted them into unyielding hammerlocks ; the witch immediately pushed herself away from her assailant. The ghost was thrashing and screaming, which didn’t make it any easier for Enola not to sink further : its legs kept hitting and tangling with hers, impeding her movements. And she was starting running out of oxygen ; she knew her potential death would be only temporary, but painful, and she wasn’t really keen on experiencing it.

The creature was suddenly yanked down, which forced Enola to release her grip on it ; she glanced down and saw long thick leafy seaweeds  wrapped around its legs. Only then did she notice that Katrina’s hands were glowing with magic. They lost no time in watching the ghoul fighting its bonds and swam up. When her head broke the surface, the first thing Enola saw was the Dobbs Ferry Bridge and she cursed inwardly. _The bitch teleported us into the river !_ They were several miles away from the estate… Several miles that they’d have to walk while dripping wet. _Amazing_. For now though, they had bigger problems than their lack of transportation.

Enola reached the sandy bank before Katrina, mostly because she was wearing trousers and not a long nightgown ; the witch was panting in exhaustion and fear.

“Come on Katrina !” Enola urged, helping her friend out of the water so she wouldn’t trip and fall.

To be honest, Enola herself was more than a little frightened : she had no idea of the undead woman’s powers, no idea how to defeat her, and frankly, her appearance was simply hair-raising. Naturally, the vampire was _also_ quite angry. _No one tries to kill my friends and lives !_ Plus, they still had several miles to travel on foot. _Bitch._

Enola and Katrina plunged into the mist-filled woods stretching beyond the shore, and ran straight ahead. Suddenly, Enola grabbed Katrina’s arm to stop her.

“Wait !” she breathed. “I think I heard something…”

She listened intently and, a couple of seconds later, she heard it again : Ichabod’s voice, calling their names. And two pairs of footsteps crunching the dead leaves. A relieved smile lit up her face : maybe the Witnesses would know what to do  with the ghoul.

“Ichabod and Abbie are here,” she explained before Katrina could ask what was going on. “That way.”

And they resumed their running. It wasn’t long before they stumbled across the Witnesses : Ichabod –who was carrying a small crossbow– rushed to Katrina and embraced her, relief written all over his face, while Abbie went and hugged Enola.

“You okay ?” the police lieutenant asked with concern.

“I’m wet, pissed off and a bit scared, but fine,” Enola answered with a tight smile. “Now that Katrina’s relatively safe, maybe I could go and squish the bitch’s head…”

Abbie chuckled, shaking her head with amusement : now _that_ was Enola all over…

“I don’t think it’ll be enough to stop her, but we–”

Their conversation, as well as Ichabod and Katrina’s, was interrupted by the distant screams of the undead woman.

“Her name is Mary Wells,” Ichabod specified. “You met her in my company many years ago.”

“The young woman from England?” his wife recalled with a frown.

“The very same,” Ichabod confirmed. “This creature is her tormented spirit given flesh. I do not know what has brought her here, but I must learn the truth.”

“She was raised by dark magic,” Katrina supplied. “I only know one warlock powerful enough to accomplish it.”

Ichabod immediately figured out whom she was talking about and on his face, worry turned into dismay.

“Henry,” he breathed dejectedly.

A metallic taste filled Enola’s mouth and she clenched her fists as her anger became rage ; if she bit back the stream of insults tingling her lips, if was only out of consideration for Ichabod and Katrina, but she promised herself that she’d let the steam off later, when she’d be alone. _You miserable bastard, moronic sonofabitch, filthy piece of shit ! I swear I’ll make you pay for every second of suffering you brought us !_

“I can undo his work,” Katrina hastily went on, very much aware of Enola’s fury. “Send that poor woman's soul to a better place. But I too must use dark magic to accomplish the task : in order to release her spirit, I must risk my own. The only way for the spell to be achieved is for another witch to serve as an anchor to keep me from losing my way.”

“We're all out of witches,” Abbie shot back. “How about a Witness ?”

The screams of Mary Wells rung out again, closer, startling them.

“The spell will take some time to cast,” Katrina warned.

“Then I'll hold her off until the incantation has taken full effect,” Ichabod decided. “Enola, you should stay here to protect them in case Mary goes through me.”

“Okay,” the vampire approved.

Katrina beckoned Abbie to come over, and they kneeled face to face.

“Be careful !” Ichabod exclaimed before hurrying towards the river.

“I will teach you the words you must repeat,” Katrina said, taking Abbie’s hands in hers.

She began chanting in Latin ; as for Enola, she chose a tree, jumped, grabbed a branch and hauled herself on it to have a better view of their surroundings. Perched there like a hawk, she scanned the forest for any suspicious movement.

 

…

 

Enola was gazing at Katrina with uneasiness, frowning and chewing her bottom lip. She shouldn’t have lied about Mary Wells’s fate ; she should have trusted Ichabod to make the right decision and stay in America to fight for his convictions. Or at least, she should have told him sooner, after they had decided to marry, for example. _Marriage should be based on honesty. Without it, there can be no trust, and without trust there can be no love_. The list of the witch’s lies was beginning to get a bit too long, especially when one considered the seriousness of said lies.

Her thoughts were interrupted by furious hoof beats. _Ugh ! Why can’t we have a moment’s peace ?_ The Horseman was galloping at full speed towards them, with his axe lifted and ready to strike : Enola was close enough  to Katrina to see his face was but a mask of fury. His eyes were fixed on Ichabod. _Oh no you don’t…_ The vampire lunged at him and knocked him off his horse ; she pinned Abraham on the ground, holding his hands above his head and snarling.

“If you’re the cavalry, you’re late,” she hissed. “The monster has been taken care of, thanks to the four of us, so how about you–”

She broke off when she suddenly realized that their noses practically touched.

She blinked and, much to her horror, she felt herself blushing slightly : unfortunately, the fact that they barely saw, and never addressed each other since their quarrel hadn’t changed the fact that she found him _very_ handsome. Abraham immediately felt Enola’s anger disappear, saw her eyes fill with embarrassment and her cheeks redden. Only then did he realize their faces were separated by barely half an inch ; her damp hair fell around her lovely face like a curtain, brushing his cheeks, her warm breath was tingling his lips and her golden eyes were gazing deeply into his… But before he could decide how to feel about this, she jumped on her feet and backed away from him ; he took the opportunity to stand and pick up his broadaxe, his eyes still carefully trained on the vampire… Well, until he noticed that she was, again, less than decent : granted, this time she wasn’t dancing, but the shirt she was wearing was fitted, white and _wet_ ; add this to the fact that twenty-first-century undergarments weren’t as _covering_ as eighteenth-century ones, and you’ll understand why he quickly shifted his gaze to Katrina, cursing what was left of his humanity. Apparently, even dead his treacherous body couldn’t help reacting at the sight of a beautiful half-naked –or at least as good as half-naked– woman ; he briefly thanked Moloch that his blood wasn’t circulating anymore, preventing him from blushing like a virgin –a ridiculous state for the Horseman of Death.

“Abraham...”

Katrina’s soft, pleading voice, roused him from his thoughts, which probably wasn’t a bad thing given the direction they had been taking.

“It was an angry spirit from our past that stole me from your home. Not Ichabod. He saved me just now,” the witch went on in a calm voice, as if she were talking to a scared animal. “Now, I know you might hate him, but if you care for me, _truly_ care for me, as you say you do... you will repay him with his life.”

Abraham glared at Ichabod with all the hatred he could muster, simply not to betray the fact that he had completely forgotten about his rival’s presence. _What is this woman doing to me ? And what in hell’s name is it with women and the_ if you love me _thing ?_ Katrina’s plea was useless, anyway : his fury had already cooled off and, since Enola was there, he knew he had no chance to kill his enemy. Besides, right now he wanted nothing more than to go somewhere he couldn’t see the vampire.

“I am ready to go home,” Katrina added with a tentative smile, taking a step towards him.

For a brief moment it seemed she had said this only to draw his attention away from Ichabod, but then he caught the look on his rival’s face : it was so disbelieving, so appalled, that it couldn’t possibly be faked. It nearly drew a gloating laughter from Abraham. _Now you know how it feels to be rejected by the one you love…_ He rejected the memory of Enola shouting at him that he didn’t love Katrina, and offered his hand to the latter, who slipped hers into it ; he led her towards Acheron. The white horse huffed :  personally, he preferred the vampire to the witch ; granted, the former was much more aggressive, but at least _she_ was honest. Now the witch… He could just _smell_ her hypocrisy. Animals are very good at sensing emotions and he was no exception ; he was even better at it. Besides, he liked the vampire’s sweet smell of death. And it was rather fun to see his master bested, for once. However, he didn’t move when the witch hauled herself on his back, followed by his master who took place behind her.

“Katrina, I’ll be right behind you,” Enola said, her voice flat and her face expressionless. “I need to fetch some things I left at the estate before I go home.”

“Of course,” the witch replied with a somewhat hesitant smile –she had probably noticed Enola’s disapproval.

“You should take a bath,” the vampire advised. “I’m afraid the Hudson River is much filthier than in the eighteenth century, so if you don’t want to catch some disease…”

Katrina nodded, then Abraham made his horse volt and spurred him into gallop ; they quickly disappeared into the mist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are. So, how was it ? Post a comment !  
> Yes, I figured that Death's horse should be as unusual as his master, so I made him much more intelligent than a normal horse. I hope it's not too much...  
> Also, poor Abraham : Enola doesn't make his life -I mean his death- any easier, does she ? And believe me, it's not over. There's going to be a magistral argument in the Gorgon's cave. You know, when he says "I was supposed to be the hero of the story, not the villain" ? Now that's just ammo for Enola. Yeah, there still are a few chapters to go before they can even tolerate each other...


	13. Playing hell with him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and the comments ! Your support means a lot to me and my huge lack of self-confidence ! And speaking of comments, I'd like to reply to vjung : it's true that Enola easily wins against Abraham, but you have to remember that 1) she's much stronger and faster than him, and 2) without his head, he's weaker than usual. Anyway, I think that the fights that really matter aren't so much the physical ones as the verbal ones : Enola and Abraham may not be equals on a physical level, but on an intellectual one ? They certainly are. They have the same strength of mind, will and character.

Enola turned around towards Ichabod and Abbie, and the look on the former’s face was enough to dissuade her from making any sarcastic comment. Instead, she walked to him and put a gentle hand on his shoulder, gazing at him with a reassuring smile.

“You know she said that only to divert his attention from you, right ?” she comforted him with much more conviction in her tone than she actually felt.

She had sensed something warp slightly between Ichabod and Katrina when he had reproached her for her numerous lies : irritation bordering on anger had been clear on his face and in his tone ; as for Katrina, her expression had been a mixture of shame and disappointment, as is she had expected him to understand and forgive her on the spot, perhaps even to agree with her. He had not. So, maybe Katrina had said those words to distract Abraham, but Enola was ready to bet that the witch had also been very eager to escape Ichabod’s judgement. 

“I know,” the latter answered with a faint smile. “Thank you, Enola.”

The vampire nodded and squeezed her friend’s shoulder lightly before letting go. As much as she wanted to comment on Katrina’s latest lie, it wasn’t the place, or the time, or, for that matter, her business. So she turned towards Abbie, who didn’t look so pleased either, and asked :

“If your car’s nearby, can you take me to the estate ?”

“Sure,” the police lieutenant said. “I’ll wait while you get your things and drive you home.”

“Thanks. Gods, I need a shower…”

“Hmm, can’t disagree with that,” Abbie smirked.

“Oi !” Enola protested, swatting her friend’s arm. “It’s not my fault if this river is filthier than a rubbish tip !”

“How rude, Leftenant,” Ichabod chimed in with a wry smile.

“Ah !” Enola dramatically exclaimed with a flourish of her arms. “Thanks Ichabod.”

“… Although I cannot deny that she is right,” he went on, his blue eyes twinkling with mischievousness.

The vampire was so astounded by his words that she just stood there, her lips parted but incapable of articulating a sound ; she couldn’t even decide between laughing and being offended. Abbie and Ichabod exchanged an amused glance before bursting out laughing at Enola’s speechlessness ; this ended the latter’s indecision and she scowled.

“Ugh ! When you’re done acting like fools, _maybe_ we could get away from here,” the vampire huffed, folding her arms and rolling her eyes.

“Alright, alright, spoilsport !” Abbie chuckled, holding her hands up. “The car’s this way,” she hurriedly added before Enola could complain about the offending epithet.

 

…

 

Enola was just finishing stashing her cooker and her iPod speaker in her backpack when Katrina appeared in the doorway leading from the dining room to the rest of the house ; her hair was damp but she no longer smelled like river water, and she had changed her nightgown.

“Oh sorry, did I wake you up ?” Enola asked apologetically.

“No, not at all, I was… waiting for you,” the witch said.

The vampire lifted a surprised eyebrow.

“Oh ? Why ?”

Katrina hesitated, fiddling with her fingers and lowering her gaze, which increased Enola’s perplexity. Eventually, she looked up and tentatively declared :

“I was wondering if you would accept to… stay here tonight. I would… appreciate your presence.”

Enola blinked, uncertain whether she had heard the witch correctly. Granted : she had just escaped an assassination attempt by her undead rival who had appeared from nowhere in her bedroom and had dragged her into the river. Anyone would be more than a little shaken after that. Yet she had never asked for the vampire’s company during the night, even though her stay in Purgatory had probably been ten times more stressful. _But she wasn’t in death danger ; she had to be kept alive for Abraham_.

“Well… It depends,” Enola sighed. “Can I have a bath, and can you lend me a nightgown ?”

“Of course,” Katrina hurriedly answered with a clearly relieved smile.

“All right then,” the vampire decided. “I’ll stay. Just let me tell Ichabod and Abbie about it.”

_Am I too nice ? Yes / ~~No~~ (delete as appropriate)_

Half an hour later, Enola sat cross-legged on Katrina’s bed, a steaming cup of jasmine tea in her hands ; she was wearing one of her friend’s long white linen nightgown and felt much cleaner. Her hair was still damp from her bath. The witch sat on her pillow, with her legs under the sheets and also holding a cup of tea. They had been silent for a few minutes now, Katrina staring into space and Enola gazing at the steam rising in twists and waves from her cup ; but if the silence had been companionable at first, it was now becoming awkward rather quickly.

“You disapprove of my lying to Ichabod about Mary, do you ?”

Katrina’s voice was soft and detached, and her question was more of a statement than a real interrogation. Enola looked up at the witch, who was gazing at her with a neutral face. For a second, the vampire considered lying to Katrina not to upset her, but she quickly pushed back this idea : Katrina deserved her honesty, and besides, she wouldn’t do what she reproached the witch with.

“I do,” she said with her usual bluntness. “I think you should’ve trusted Ichabod not to abandon everything he had fought for since he had joined the colonists. Now, I haven’t known him for as long as you have, but I don’t think Ichabod is the kind of person who’d give up everything and everyone he was fighting for just to go and bury someone.”

“Mary was not just anyone,” Katrina protested. “They were promised to each other, Ichabod cared about her… His honour would have demanded he bring her body back to England.”

“His honour would also have demanded he respect his engagements towards Washington and the revolution,” Enola pointed out, trying to keep her voice even. “Maybe he would’ve escorted Mary’s body back to England, but then he would’ve come back, I’m sure.”

Annoyance briefly flashed in Katrina’s eyes when she realized she had no more valid argument to justify herself.

“Yes, well, as you said, you do not know him as well as I do,” she snapped before she could think better of it.

Enola stiffened at the unfair, mean comment that hit her like a needle driven through her heart. The regret that immediately washed over Katrina’s face might have made her feel more forgiving if her pain hadn’t been so quickly replaced by anger. She felt her upper lip beginning to curl up, but she firmly tightened her lips ; she bit back a growl, forced her fingers not to squeeze the cup –otherwise they would shatter it. Had it been anyone else, she would already have retorted with scathing words that would have stabbed her interlocutor’s heart, but she couldn’t bring herself to destroy the friendship she and Katrina had begun to build.

“Enola–”

“You should try to sleep,” the vampire coldly cut her off, getting off the bed. “I’ll go and read a bit in the living room.”

Right now, Katrina’s apologies wouldn’t mean anything to her. She closed the bedroom door behind her, and padded first to the dining room to retrieve a fresh blood bag from her cooler, and the book she currently read from her handbag. Enola stoked the fire in the living room, then curled up in one of the sofas near the hearth ; she finished her tea before sticking a straw in the blood bag. She sipped on it while staring into the dancing fire and listening to the noises of the house : the fire crackling, the ticking of the mantel clock, the wooden floor creaking, Katrina’s steady heartbeat, the plumbing occasionally clunking, the roof truss groaning ; Abraham had gone out while she had been bathing, so she didn’t hear his familiar heavy footfalls or the rustling of his book’s pages. She let all these sounds fill her mind, leaving no room for thoughts about Katrina’s words ; she didn’t want to think about them yet. She was still angry, and even if she knew she was overreacting a bit –Katrina was tired and upset, she had probably not meant what she had said– she needed some distance ; besides, her evening had been restless enough, no need to add _more_ sour thoughts to it. So she opened her book – _Wide Sargasso Sea_ by Jean Rhys– and immersed herself into it.

 

…

 

Abraham was walking towards his bedroom as quietly as possible not to disturb Katrina’s sleep, when he spotted the faint orange glow pouring from the doorway leading to the living room. He frowned : it was seven o’clock in the morning, the fire should have long since been extinguished. He went and peered into the room : small flames were still flickering in the hearth, keeping the room relatively warm and casting a soft golden glow on the woman lying on the left-hand sofa with her head to the fire. He frowned. _Why is Katrina sleeping here ?_ He tiptoed into the living room with the intention of carrying her to her bed, but when he reached the sofa, he froze : it wasn’t Katrina. It was Enola. _Why is she still here ?_ He should have left as soon as he had realized it was her, and not Katrina. Unfortunately for him, his eyes lingered one second too many on the young woman. And then time stopped.

She was lying on her back with her head turned towards the edge of the seat ; most of her hair was pushed back behind her shoulders and spilled on the faded blue tapestry like a pool of blood, but a few dark red locks were still resting on her cheek –one of them had even rolled across her peaceful face and was shivering in the faint breath escaping from her parted lips. Her right hand was resting on her flat stomach that rose and fell regularly to the rhythm of her breathing, and the thin fingers of her left one were almost brushing the pages of the open book lying on the floor –her slim arm was dangling over the edge of the sofa. Her legs were bent in the same direction than her head ; the long sleeveless nightgown she was wearing had been lifted up to her knees during her sleep, and revealed svelte, smooth calves. Abraham’s breath hitched in his throat and he couldn’t help swallowing hard as his eyes followed their elegant curve down to her ankles and her bare lean feet ; this time, there was no one to see him but the last shreds of his gentlemanliness made him tore his gaze away from her white legs, especially when an unbidden question – _what would it feel like to have them wrapped around my waist ?_ – sprung to his mind. He focused on her face, but as it turned out, it wasn’t a better solution.

She looked so _peaceful_ …  It was the first time he saw her features so utterly relaxed : gone were her frowns, her snarls, her smirks, her sneers, her glares, or even the smiles and the liveliness she reserved for Katrina ; gone was the energy –whether angry, feline or cheerful– she always radiated. For once, her expression matched the softness of her features. His legs seemed to move by themselves as he came closer to her head ; the small part of his mind that wasn’t completely numb was vituperating him and his foolish behaviour : she could wake up at any moment, and what would he do then ? How would he justify such closeness ? And above all : why did he care if she was beautiful ? He was supposed to be attracted to Katrina, not Enola !

But this couldn’t prevent Abraham from leaning over her face until he could see her long lashes that, quivering along with her eyelids like a crow’s pinnae, cast a shadow on her cheekbones ; see the trembling wings of her button nose, the trough of her philtrum, the reflections lit by the firelight on her full lips. She smelled of… datura. The pleasant fragrance of a datura flower at night.

_She is beautiful._

The thought hit him like one of her punches, and he didn’t know why : he had already acknowledged her loveliness before, starting when he had first seen her, but always in a detached, objective way. Why did it feel _personal_ this time ? Why was there such a lump in his throat ? Why was his breathing quickening ? Why was it almost _painful_? Because, because… _Because this time I am not using Katrina as a yardstick_. This time he was only seeing Enola. The realization was like a slap across his face and he fled the room as silently as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah, I know, the end is a little... fluffy. But come on, we all need some fluff in our lives !  
> Now, if you're worrying about Abraham's sanity, you can stop : he'll dive back into denial very soon ^^  
> By the way, how did you find sleeping Enola's description ? Okay, I confess, I'm rather proud of it ;) Abraham isn't done fantasizing about her legs, although you'll have to way a good while for the next occurrence... 
> 
> Remember : comments and kudos keep me happy, and I update sooner when I'm happy !


	14. Head to head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the direct continuation of the previous chapter. I had fun writing it, but this time -and for once- it was at Enola's expense ^^ Also, what did I tell you ? Denial, denial, denial... Not that dear Abraham is already in love with our favourite vampire, but he IS attracted to her.  
> As always, thanks for the kudos and comments ! They keep me going !

Abraham strode quietly to Katrina’s bedroom and slipped inside : he had to make sure that… that he was still sane. He snuck to the bed and took in Katrina’s sleeping form : she was lying on her side with an arm tucked under her head and the sheets pulled to her shoulders ; her long wavy dark ginger hair covered her pillow and her cheek. She looked as serene as Enola ; _then again she always looks serene_ , a snarky little voice at the back of his mind added. He ignored it and focused on his future bride’s features : he had always found her beautiful, he still did ; of course, compared to Enola she was quite restrained with her soft voice, her gentle smiles, her rare laughter and her composure, but this was how she had been taught to behave…

This thought was like a revelation : of course, this explained everything ! Enola was the first woman he knew who didn’t behave like the eighteenth-century ladies he had been used to mingling with –well, except for Lieutenant Mills, but she didn’t count since he hadn’t seen much of her ; she was also the only person who didn’t fear him. He was being attracted to novelty, that was all ! Soon, he’d get used to her and she would no longer affect him. Relief washed over him at the idea that, before long, everything would go back to normal and he would only care about Katrina, as he was supposed to. When he left the bedroom, he felt much lighter.

The first thing Abraham did was to fetch a blanket from the bed in the guest bedroom : he had decided it was best if he went and covered Enola, just in case he had to come back in the living room while she was still asleep. As he carefully laid the blanket on her, praying that she wouldn’t wake up, he willed himself not to look at her face _or_ at her legs. Only, just when he was finishing placing the blanket on her shoulders –while stubbornly staring at the back of the sofa and thinking about Katrina– a small sigh escaped her lips and he instinctively looked at her. _Damn it !_ He ran away before his eyes were glued to her, but the glimpse he had caught was enough to dry his mouth and alter his mental picture of Katrina : her eyes were flickering from pale green to tarnished gold, her face was much rounder than usual, her hair was shorter and wavier… _No ! Enough !_ He dashed into his bedroom whose floor he began to pace furiously ; it was taking all his willpower not to yell in frustration and rage. _Datura, indeed,_ he inwardly sneered, thinking of her scent. Also called Devil’s snare, moon flower, Hell’s bells. Poisonous. _It suits her_. She was like a poison creeping through his dead veins and slowly ensnaring his mind and his reason.

Her feline gait. Her laughter that bounced on the walls. Her melodious voice. Her sharp quick wit. The flame in her eyes when she was enthused by the topic of the conversation. The way she would blow on the lock of hair which always rolled across her face. All this he had noticed during the history lessons. Small things. But it’s when you begin to notice the small things that you know you’re in trouble.

He gritted his teeth, entertaining the idea of smashing the furniture of the room to blow off steam, but it would surely awake both women. _Remember, it’s only temporary ; soon you won’t even look at her anymore._ For now though, he needed something to do, something to occupy his mind… anything. Well, he would start by having a bath. He needed one ; besides, with some luck, the warm water would relax him. He wasn’t certain whether this hope was optimistic or stupid.

 

…

 

Enola was awoken by the additional warmth provided by the blanket. She yawned, rubbing her eyes, then glanced around… and froze. She wasn’t in her bedroom. _I’m at the estate_ , she suddenly remembered, sitting up. _I must have fallen asleep while reading…_ That was probably why she was currently on a sofa in the living room. However, she didn’t remember bringing a blanket with her ; perhaps Katrina had, for some reason, got up during the night and, seeing her asleep there, she had brought a blanket to cover her. The vampire frowned : this would have been a plausible explanation if the scent clinging to the blanket had been Katrina’s, and not Abraham’s. _Weird. I guess there are still some remnants of a gentleman in him, after all._ Enola sighed, stretching : she’d have to thank him. _Hey, I’m not completely devoid of politeness…_

She picked up her book and tossed it on the coffee table before getting up  ; she glanced at the mantel clock : half past seven. Good : her French class wouldn’t begin before ten. She went and put back the blanket on the bed in the guest room, then she slipped into Katrina’s bedroom to filch her necklace from her nightstand : if she was going to thank Abraham, she might as well do it face to face –and not face to windpipe. She hung the silver chain around her neck, strode to Abraham’s bedroom and, ignoring the slight nervousness pinching her insides – _what’s that for, anyway ?_ – she knocked at the door.

“Mr Van Brunt ? It’s Enola,” she announced herself. “Can I talk to you for a second ?”

For a moment she heard nothing but the house’s breathing, then the answer came in an even tone :

“Come in.”

Enola opened the door… and froze.

 

…

 

 When Abraham heard the knock at his door, accompanied by Enola’s voice, he stiffened. _What does she want ?!_ He was in the process of getting dressed after his bath –which hadn’t relaxed him as much as he had hoped– and still had to put on his shirt –yes, it’s an important detail. He was about to do just so before inviting her in, when an idea crossed his mind. An idea that made his lips stretch into a wicked smile. _Time to get my revenge…_ And if it didn’t work, well it wouldn’t have cost him anything.

“Come in,” he said evenly, turning around to face the door.

The door opened, Enola stepped in… and stopped dead at the sight of him. Abraham was extremely satisfied to see her eyes go as wide as saucers and her cheeks, as red as the blood she drank. _So it_ is _working after all…_ He refrained very hard from smirking : this time, _she_ was the one flustered ; granted, there was no one else to see it, but he’d content himself with that. Now, all he had to do was not to let her appearance –she was still wearing her nightgown– unsettle him.

“What did you want to tell me ?” he casually asked.

 

…

 

It took Enola a second to realize exactly what she had in front of her, but then she felt her eyes almost burst out of their sockets, and her cheeks heat up so hard it was a miracle her face didn’t catch fire ; her heart seemed to skip a beat before speeding up wildly. _What the hell Enola ?! You’ve seen shirtless men before !_ Hell, she had even seen more than that with Daniel. Not to mention all those advertisements for perfumes and whatnots flaunting men with perfect muscles, who didn’t appeal to her in the slightest. Mind you, she’d never been the bags-of-muscles type of girl –she found that ugly. But that was precisely the thing : Abraham was _not_ a bag of muscles ; in fact, he had _just_ the right amount : far from skinny, but in no way Schwarzenegger-like. The kind of chest you’d love to pillow your head upon, and feel it rise and fall underneath your cheek ; the kind of arms that would make you feel safe, and not crushed, when wrapped around you. And the kind of skin you’d be dying to touch, just to see if it was a smooth as it looked ; Enola would’ve supposed his complete absence of scars was due to his being undead, if she had been able to string two coherent thoughts together. Right now, she needed all her concentration to refrain from following the thin line of pale downy hairs that disappeared into his breeches.

“What did you want to tell me ?”

Enola barely registered the question, but nonetheless opened her mouth to answer it… and realized that she had suddenly forgotten what she was there for. The sound that passed her lips mirrored marvellously well the state of her mind :

“Uh…”

“By the way, my eyes are up here, Miss Vallombreuse.”

Same words, same snarky tone, same smug expression than those she had used a few days ago with him. It stung her like a wasp but it was exactly what she needed to put her ideas back in place. _He did it on purpose. The jerk did it on purpose !_ She glared at him straight in the eye and folded her arms ; her cheeks were still warm and her mouth, rather dry, but at least she could think properly –more or less.

“I want to thank you for the blanket,” she said evenly, choosing not to retort to his taunt. “I appreciate the gesture, whatever it is that prompted it.”

Abraham narrowed his eyes suspiciously, as if he were wondering whether she was being sincere. She simply held his stare, although she was becoming increasingly distracted by the tiny lines etched into the skin around his eyes. _Crow’s-feet… Did he use to laugh a lot ? I wonder how_ that _sounds…_ Suddenly, his features relaxed slightly and he nodded curtly. _I’ll take that as_ you’re welcome. She was about to take her leave – _before I do anything stupid_ – when he spoke again :

“If you keep being polite towards me, I will begin to think you want something from me,” he quipped.

Enola’s eyebrows flew to her hairline.

“When was I ever polite towards you ? Except for two minutes ago ?”

“When you apologized for breaking my legs.”

It was Enola’s turn to narrow her eyes.

“I didn’t apologize,” she testily pointed out. “I said I hadn’t taken any pleasure in doing it. And I didn’t say it out of courtesy, but because I’m no monster and I wanted you to know it.”

Abraham lifted a sceptical eyebrow.

“So when you wanted to rip my heart off, that was you _being no monster_?”

 _Uh. Touché._ The vampire sighed and held her hands up.

“All right, all right, I apologize for that one. I was… not in my right mind. But that’s all I have to apologize for.”

“Really ? Because _I_ can think of another reason for you to make some excuses.”

Enola narrowed her eyes and unfolded her arms to put her hands on her hips.

“No,” she snapped. “I meant every word I said. I still do. And if you had even bothered to think about what I said, you’d have realized that I’m right.”

Abraham stiffened and his eyes turned to ice ; Enola braced herself for the oncoming attack, verbal or not. _This had begun rather well, but I’ve the sudden feeling it won’t end the same way._

“I meant when you broke my ribs,” he growled.

Enola inhaled sharply as memories of that night flashed in her mind ; memories of alien words pushing their way up her throat, of cold fingers clasping her heart and creeping into her mind. A dark presence inside her. Trying to control her. A ghost of her rage at this attempt rose in her.

“That was my revenge for you trying to use me as your personal puppet,” she snarled. “ _You’re_ the one who should apologize !”

She saw the anger in Abraham’s eyes subside slightly as he folded his arms and pursed his lips. They glared at each other for a handful seconds, then he let out an exasperated sigh.

“Fine !” he shot out. “I apologize ! Happy now ?”

“Ecstatic,” Enola drawled sarcastically. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go : I have students to teach.”

“I pity them.”

The vampire glowered at Abraham, nettled by his pique. She _was_ a good teacher : the professor she was assisting often praised her and the pupils liked and respected her. She was amiable and humorous, but the students now knew better than to try to take advantage of it : her sharp tongue, and the detentions she didn’t hesitate to dispense, kept them in line. Also, her short temper had practically become a legend when the story of how she had torn a strip off two patronizing teachers had spread like wildfire through the high school.

“You know, right now, if you were on fire, I’d consider roasting marshmallows,” she growled.

She spun around and walked to the door with a light sway he didn’t fail to notice.

“By the way,” Enola added, standing in the doorway, “I _don’t_ want anything from you, so you can relax.”

“Oh ? This is odd, I had the distinct impression that you _did_ want something from me earlier,” her adversary smirked. “Your stare was _quite_ intense, as I recall ; but perhaps I am mistaken…”

To Abraham’s immense satisfaction, Enola’s face turned tomato-red and she choked on her own saliva. But even while coughing and picking up the pieces of her pride, she managed to shoot him a withering glare.

“I– I said I– don’t wa– want anything from– you and I mea– meant it,” she spluttered hotly.

And she ran away before he could add anything else. He heard the door to the guest bedroom shut, muffling the sound of her coughing, and when he closed his, the noise ceased completely. He put on his shirt and, thoughtful, sat down on the armchair in a corner of his room : this was their second conversation without throwing punches or insults at each other –the first being when she had persuaded him to let her visit Katrina. So, two more or less civilized conversations out of three in total –yes, because the one in between… Abraham’s face darkened and he pursed his lips, battling to keep memories of Enola’s words at bay : he wanted to keep doing what he had done ever since that night, and that was _not thinking about them. I don’t want to think about them. I won’t._

They were completely untrue, anyway.

So untrue that a dozen of trees in the forest bore the marks of his fury.

Also, three unfortunate campers were currently in the morgue of Sleepy Hollow’s Police station, shorter by one head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ? So ? What do you think ? Hey, there's no reason why Enola should never be embarrassed ! I mean, you can hate someone and find them attractive... right ?  
> At first, I hesitated about having Abraham do this : I thought it would be rather out of character... And then I remembered that, after all, he's no longer a gentleman ; well, there are some remnants of gentlemanliness in him, but they're not really dominant... So why not ? After all, he did kidnap Katrina : how gentlemanly is that ?  
> The next chapter will begin during the Wendigo episode, for reasons I'll explain next time.
> 
> Be nice and drop a comment !


	15. Born to raise hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry ! I completely forgot to update... Thank you for reminding me ! I'm being distracted by the Doctor Who fic I'm writing...   
> So, as I said last time, this chapter begins during the Wendigo episode. I wanted to write a confrontation between Enola and Henry Parish, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. No, I know what you think : "hey, if she's there, she can just kill Parish when he comes for the Jincan, and be done with it !" Well, it won't be that easy, I'm afraid. But it's a good thing : otherwise, it would be boring !
> 
> By the way : the title is the one of a song by the British heavy metal band Motörhead, just so you know.

“A _what_?”

“A Wendigo,” Abbie repeated. “It’s a creature from Shawnee legends, a skin-changer ; the transformation’s triggered by blood and it can only return to human form after eating human organs.”

“Charming,” Enola winced. “Well, I’m in, of course.”

“Great. We’ll pick you up before we go to Pioneer Point.”

Enola hung up her phone and went back to the living room : Katrina, sitting in the sofa facing the hearth, was reading the new art book the vampire had lend her, and she knew Abraham was in his room, pretending he wasn’t reading one of the books she had brought –for now, it was an edition of Poe’s tales : it was missing from the pile on the coffee table and she knew Katrina had begun _Jane Eyre_.

“Is everything all right ?” Katrina asked, looking up from her book.

Enola made an annoyed face.

“Unfortunately, no,” she grated. “Another monster on the loose. A Wendigo.”

“Oh. I have heard of this curse, but I have yet to see its effects,” the witch said thoughtfully. “Will you assist Ichabod and Miss Mills ?”

“Of course,” Enola confirmed. “They’re coming here to pick me up, which makes me think I should pack up my stuff…”

“Very well,” Katrina said with a nod. “Do you need help ?”

“Oh no, it’s fine, don’t bother. I don’t have much to pack.”

Indeed, since she had already put her empty Tupperware containers back in her cooler, she only had to stash her gas cooker and her iPod speaker into her backpack ; after that, she went back to the living room, picked up the still-unfinished _Wide Sargasso Sea_ and flopped into an armchair to resume her reading. Unfortunately, the story of an arranged wedding, and of a woman who ended up a prisoner in her husband’s house, did nothing to keep her thoughts off Katrina and Abraham.

Enola hadn’t come to the estate the previous day –that was the day after her disagreement with Katrina– because, as she had explained in the note she had left to the witch, she had lessons to prepare and students’ works to grade, and she couldn’t afford to get distracted ; also, she needed her laptop and an internet connection. This was only partially true : she _did_ have tests to grade –something that didn’t require an internet connection nor a great deal of concentration– but she had already prepared her lessons for the next week. She had needed to take a step back : so, late in the afternoon, after finishing her work, she had sat down on the couch of her flat with a glass of vodka and orange juice, and thought. _Why was I so eager to befriend Katrina ?_ The answer wasn’t hard to find : curiosity and admiration. She was Ichabod’s wife, a witch, a strong woman who had defied the social conventions of her time by breaking off an arranged engagement, who had lived for two and half centuries in Purgatory and remained sane. But that was only the tip of the iceberg and Enola knew it : there was something else, something much more self-centred.

She didn’t want to be alone forever.

She wanted a friend that she wouldn’t have to watch wither and die.

And Katrina was immortal.

Two plus two…

Not that she didn’t appreciate Katrina for herself : the witch was kind, clever, eager to learn and interested ; she also wasn’t devoid of humour, even though she rarely showed it. Enola liked conversing with her and teaching her about what had happened between the present days and the witch’s time. They had shared bits of their past, particularly about their childhood and their adolescence, for now avoiding the sensitive topics like Katrina’s betrothal to Abraham or Enola’s transformation into a vampire and her relationship with Daniel.

The revelation of Katrina’s lie about Mary Wells had been like a glass of cold water splashed in her face : it had reminded her of the _very important_ fact that the witch was using Abraham’s feelings towards her –something Enola had blissfully refused to see. Yes, they were at _war_ ; yes, they _needed_ information about their enemies’ moves ; but there weren’t much things Enola loathed more than the manipulation of someone’s feelings, however hostile she may be towards said someone. She could understand the need for pragmatism in a war with such high stakes, but still, it left her somewhat uncomfortable, even though Abraham wasn’t in love with Katrina –he had just convinced himself he was.

Enola frowned : Katrina’s string of lies must be much more difficult to swallow for Ichabod. He had basically married a stranger –because, seriously, how could you pretend to know Katrina if you didn’t know she was a witch ? Magic was an integral part of her ! It was like knowing only a half of her ! How the hell could you build a _love_ marriage on that, since love was supposed to be based on honesty and trust ?! All those _lies_ … No wonder Ichabod couldn’t believe in her as he had ! No wonder he was hurt… And this, more than anything else, nagged Enola : the vampire was very protective of her friends, meaning the rare, precious persons who accepted her as she was –a blood-sucking undead. So, even though they had both apologized –Katrina for her unkind words and Enola for her overreacting– Enola felt, when visiting the witch, an uneasiness that wasn’t there before.

Although maybe, _just maybe_ , this uneasiness was partly due to the fact that now, whenever she saw Abraham, a picture of him shirtless would flash in her mind and she would feel her cheeks heat up slightly. Fortunately, she only saw him during the history lessons, since the rest of the time, he seemed to avoid her like the plague. But, hell : he was a handsome man, and she was still a woman ; it was a mere, and slight, physical attraction, nothing to worry about. Totally normal. Except maybe for the fact that they were both _dead_ , so yeah, it was a bit creepy when you thought about it. Ah well. There was nothing that could be done about it.

A honking coming from outside the estate jerked Enola from her thoughts and startled Katrina.

“Abbie and Ichabod are here,” the vampire sighed, standing up. “I’ve got to go.”

“I will walk you out,” Katrina said, leaving the sofa.

They walked silently to the dining room, where Enola picked up her cooler, her backpack and her handbag while Katrina opened the door.

“You three be careful,” the witch bade, taking her friend’s free hand in hers.  “From what I have read, a Wendigo is not to be trifled with.”

“We’ll be careful,” Enola promised with a smile. “See you tomorrow, Katrina.”

And after these words, she headed towards the Land Rover waiting in front of the estate : the autumn night had already engulfed the clearing and the trees, and the car was like a bubble of light with the white brightness of its headlamps and its turned-on interior lamps. She could see Abbie and Ichabod sitting inside, and it made her smile. _Light’s champions against darkness._ The vampire put her things into the trunk before opening the rear door ; she greeted her friends while settling on the rear seats.

“How are you and Katrina ?” Ichabod asked eagerly, while Abbie started the car and headed towards Pioneer Point.

Enola chuckled and shook her head with amusement.

“We’re both fine, Ichabod,” she promised. “Abraham hasn’t mistreated us yet.”

“He’d better not,” the British man mumbled.

The vampire laughed.

“Indeed,” she replied with a broad impish smile. “But he knows he’ll have to deal with a pissed-off vampire, should he try anything.”

“A terrifying perspective for anyone,” Abbie chimed in with a smile.

“Truer words were never spoken,” Enola smirked. “Anyway, care to feel me in ? Exactly what are we up against ?”

 

…

 

“Ew,” Enola commented with a disgusted grimace as they watched the antlered hairy creature ravenously eat the liver and the kidney Jenny had just thrown at it.

“Hey, _you_ drink blood,” the latter pointed out in a whisper not to be heard by Hawley, who was still in the surveillance room with Abbie.

Enola had just met the nonchalant blond man –since she had been working when the Piper and the Tyrian shekel incidents had taken place– so she didn’t want him to know about her nature. Besides, the young man had kept casting interested glances at her, which she found _very annoying._

“Hey, it’s not as if I disembowelled people to eat their organs raw,” she protested in a hush tone, shooting an offended glance at Jenny.

Enola had accompanied Abbie’s sister at the med school to help her bypass the security –she had had to compel two security guards– and choose the good bits from the corpses –no, she hadn’t tasted them, but simply used her superior sense of smell to detect the freshest healthiest organs.

“Good point,” Jenny conceded. “Okay, forget I said anything.”

“Thanks. And anyway,” the vampire went on in an annoyed hiss, turning to Ichabod to jab his chest with a finger, “ _this_ wouldn’t be necessary if you had let me chase Joey at vampire speed ! I could have compelled him to forget about it ! But no, instead I had to _wrestle_ the damned thing !”

The Witness rolled his eyes, equally irritated.

“Leftenant Mills has already told you that she does not want anything… _messing_ … with her friend any more than this curse already does,” he retorted.

“My compulsion wouldn’t–”

“Guys !” Jenny interrupted them, pointing at Joey, who was turning back into a human.

“Well. He looks much better, doesn’t he ?” Enola drawled in a light tone. “Too bad he didn’t keep the antlers, maybe that would’ve lightened the mood…”

 

…

 

Enola was reading in the surveillance room in the company of Jenny, who was cleaning her handgun, while Abbie had her long-needed talk with Joey ; Ichabod and Hawley had left to ask Hawley’s Shawnee acquaintances for help. But, as always, this more or less peaceful moment wasn’t to last : the main round double door was thrown open without warning, startling everyone, and two men pointing guns at Abbie and Joey rushed into the cell, followed by none other than Henry Parish.

“During the Revolution, prison structures like this had a sentry at every post,” the warlock taunted, before continuing in a more serious, disdainful tone. “The hexes in this cell may limit my powers, but they do nothing for those antiquated locks.”

Enola met Jenny’s gaze, and the human nodded, her face hard and determined. She quickly loaded her gun and pulled back the slide to push the new cartridge into the chamber ; the two young women slunk towards the door leading to the cell ; Parish’s goons were turning their backs to it, making their work much easier.

“Drop it,” Jenny ordered Goon 1, aiming the gun at his head.

“One wrong move and you can say goodbye to your cervical vertebrae,” Enola growled to Goon 2, grasping his nape.  

“What a marvellous family gathering !” Parish exclaimed mockingly. “Hello again, Miss Vallombreuse. I hear you’ve been visiting my dear mother.”

The glare Enola shot him was burning with such hatred and disgust that the warlock almost flinched.

“I’m surprised you didn’t try to prevent me from doing so,” she grated spitefully.

“Oh, Abraham assured me that you didn’t discuss anything in relation to the coming Apocalypse,” the warlock replied slyly. “And if it’s what it takes to keep her tranquil, then so be it. That’s one less thing to worry about.”

Enola almost asked how Abraham could possibly keep an eye on them if he was shut away in his bedroom, but thought better of it : Parish didn’t need to know his accomplice had in fact no idea what Katrina and Enola talked about during the vampire’s visits –except for the history lessons.

“Well, I’ll be sure to thank him for his support,” she sneered.

“Lower your guns,” Jenny demanded again, interrupting the conversation. “Now.”

“Violence,” Parish sighed with a mock-disappointed tone. “Always violence or order with you three. In the interest of avoiding a total bloodbath, I suggest you give me the Jincan.”

“ _Or_ , I could simply break your minions’ necks,” Enola snarled. “No blood involved.”

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” Parish warned, pulling a small vial from a pocket of his coat.

The vial contained a brownish powder ; at this moment, a draught swept into the cell and carried a very distinctive scent to Enola, who wrinkled her nose : dried blood. Fortunately, Joey’s transformation was triggered by fresh blood.

“This contains samples of blood from two dozen innocent inhabitants of Sleepy Hollow, cursed by myself,” the warlock explained, staring at the vampire with utter malice. “All I have to do is to spill the dried blood, and it will latch on to you ; you will be then seized by an irresistible bloodlust directed at the former owners of the blood.”

An inhuman growl rolled in Enola’s throat and she bared her lengthening fangs ; Goon 2 grunted painfully when her grip on his neck tightened unconsciously. In her eyes, the hateful fire turned into an inferno of loathing and fury. Right now, if the man had been kneeling before her, defenceless and begging for his life, she would have ripped his head off without hesitation.

“Wherever they are, you will find and kill them,” the warlock went on. “When they are all dead, the curse will end and only then will you realize what you have done. Will you be able to went on living, knowing you butchered more than twenty innocent people, hmm ?”

A red haze began to cloud Enola’s vision as the predator in her started taking over : the beating of Parish’s heart filled her ears, his heart that sent all this luscious red blood to run in his veins, like the jugular pulsating along his neck, underneath the fragile skin…  Her mouth watered when she imagined the blood flowing in her mouth, rolling on her tongue… She could almost feel her fangs break the skin and sink in the flesh… Almost hear her victim’s painful gasp… Parish said something she didn’t hear, but Joey stepping forward with his hands hold up and shouting “Stop !” startled her out of her bloodlust-induced daze.

“If I get you the Jincan, will you leave them alone ?” the young man resolutely asked.

“No ! Do _not_ help him, Joe,” Abbie warned urgently.

“She’s right,” Enola hissed. “He doesn’t care about human beings, he wants them all dead ! Why makes you think he’d bother to save one of them, hm ?”

Joey frowned at her words, clearly hesitating ; he glanced at the young woman, but her face was still turned towards the warlock, hiding it from his view.

“Fine,” Parish hurriedly snapped to divert Joey’s attention from Enola. “I'll honour your request. But first, get me the Jincan.”

 

…

 

Enola hated feeling helpless ; the fact that Henry Parish was responsible only increased her loathing for the warlock.  She had hated realizing there was nothing she could do without being forced to kill innocents ; hated watching Joey follow Parish ; hated knowing she could easily have broken open the door barred by Parish’s minions, and yet not daring to do so ; hated having to wait for Ichabod and Hawley to return with the cure. Fortunately, the hunt that had followed had been satisfying enough to vent her anger. The vampire sighed contentedly, stretching languidly under her sheets : it had felt _so_ good to free her inner predator… Just simple, primal hunt, catching a scent, following it, tracking her prey, instilling fear in its mind to drive it towards the dead-end alleyway, unconscious of the trap until it was too late. The fight that had ensued, albeit short, had been a nice outlet too : she had been the one charged with the task of obtaining the blood, and she had been more than happy to wrestle the Wendigo to draw some of his blood with the obsidian dagger, and also to keep it from attacking her friends.

At least the cure had worked. Enola scowled and turned in her bed to lie on her stomach : yes, they had saved Joey, but Parish had the Jincan, and they had _no clue_ as to what he intended to do with it ; nothing good, obviously. _But seriously, what good could you do with the deadliest poison in the world ? Apart from destroying it ?_ And she was ready to bet her daylight ring that Parish had _no probably._ And knowing how he loved to throw monsters at them, it shouldn’t be too long.

Oh how right she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there you go : Parish has a weapon against Enola. Will I make him use it ? ... Oh yes, but not soon. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter ! I promise I'll update soon -even sooner than I planned, to make up for the delay !  
> And don't worry, Abraham will come back soon : you won't see much of him in the next chapter though, you'll have to wait for the one after ^^


	16. Blood in the water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone ! Thank you for the kudos !  
> This chapter begins during the episode called Deliverance, that is right after the previous chapter. It's going to be a rough afternoon for Enola...   
> Enjoy !

The following day, Enola had no class to give at the high school, and she took advantage from her free time to visit Katrina early in the afternoon. When she arrived at the estate, though, a sudden impulsion pushed her towards the stable adjacent to the habitation. She hadn’t seen much of Abraham’s white horse – _Acheron, right ?_ – since her first plunge into Sleepy Hollow’s pandemonium ; in fact, she had only seen him once –that was three days ago, when Katrina had been kidnapped by Mary Wells. But it had been enough for her to be struck by the intelligence glowing in his ruby-red eyes ; besides, and however silly that may sound, the horse seemed to _like_ her. So, it was high time she went and said hello.

The vampire pushed the large double door leading into the stable and slipped into the building. Opening her dark blue duffle coat and loosening her pale green scarf, she observed her surroundings : on her left, a row of open stalls ran along a cobbled path ; shelves, hooks and saddle stands were lined up on the wall opposite the stalls, undoubtedly meant to receive tools and equipment –but they only held a few brushes, currycombs and hoof picks, along with Acheron’s saddle, saddle pad and bridle. The place was quite clean, and bathed in the warm scent of hay. At the noise Enola made when she came in, the white steed exited one of the stalls, his hooves clattering on the cobbles, and gazed at her with curiosity.

“Hello, Acheron,” Enola greeted with a slight bow.

The horse replied with a nod and a snort, and the vampire took it as a permission to come closer and place a hand on his neck ; his snow-white coat was thick and soft underneath her fingers, and warm –unlike his master, Acheron wasn’t undead, simply… well, hellish.

“You’re handsome, you know,” she whispered with a smile.

The horse head-butted her lightly, making her smile.

“Don’t let it go to your head !” she teased, scratching him behind his ears.

Acheron let out a short, falsely indignant neigh and head-butted her again, hard enough to make her stagger a little. She laughed and swatted his shoulder.

“Bad horse !” she scolded playfully.

The steed shook his head and blew through his nose in protest.

“All right, all right, you’re a good horse,” Enola relented with a smirk.

The satisfaction in the Acheron’s red eyes made her chuckle. She rested her head against his neck and threw an arm around it. She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly, enjoying the rare peaceful moment and listening to the horse’s strong heartbeat.

“How do you even _like_ me ?” she wondered. “We’re supposed to be enemies…”

The stallion snorted and gave her a sceptical look.

“Well, your master and I _are_ enemies,” she pointed out. “He doesn’t like me very much… Wait. I think I just made the understatement of the year.”

The horse rolled his eyes and shook his head again.

“Well, what ? That’s true !” the vampire laughed. “You should see how he avoids me ! I swear, he almost flees the living room when the history lessons are over !”

Acheron’s neigh sounded like a laugh.

“I feel as if I’ve the plague or something,” Enola joked on. “It’s quite offending you know… Why are you looking at me like that ?”

The horse was gazing at her with a knowing look ; Enola could have sworn he was smiling. She raised an expectant eyebrow.

“Yes ? Is there something I should know ?”

The horse nodded and struck the cobbles with a hoof ; the vampire’s second eyebrow joined the first as, on her face, curiosity turned into perplexity.

“Really ? Wait, let me–”

She broke off at the same time as Acheron whipped his head towards the stable door, his nostrils dilated and his ears flat on his head. She had heard it too : a car slowly approaching the estate, its tires crunching along the earth trail.

“Weird,” Enola mumbled.

It couldn’t be Abbie and Ichabod, they’d have called her first. Acheron and she listened intently as the car stopped at a small distance from the estate ; the engine was shut down, doors opened and closed, and then there were voices. Four of them. Masculine. Enola tensed up and a low growl rumbled in her throat as she bared her teeth.

Parish.

She’d recognize that voice anywhere.

She removed her arm from Acheron’s neck, staring at the stable door as if she could see the warlock through it ; her eyes were filled with such hatred that the wood would surely have burst into flames if the horse hadn’t nudged her with his nose, catching her attention. She turned her head, meeting his worried gaze, and she managed a tight smile.

“Yeah, I know,” she whispered. “Can’t be good. I’ll wait until they enter the house, and then I’ll go and sneak a peek.”

The horse nodded. A few seconds later, Enola heard the estate door swing open, then Parish’s voice again :

“Sorry to arrive unannounced.”

He didn’t sound sorry at all. Enola patted Acheron’s neck and kissed his cheek ; the horse replied by bumping her shoulder with his nose. Then, the vampire snuck out of the stable, as silent as a shadow, and prowled towards the estate door, which was still open. She forced herself to remain discreet, even when she heard Katrina cry :

“Unhand me !”

The scene taking place inside the dining room made her bristle and she bit back a hiss : two burly men dressed in black had the witch pinned to the wall facing the door ; another man, also dressed in black but more elegantly, was observing one of Katrina’s eyes through a retinoscope.

“Everything is as expected,” he declared a handful of seconds later.

Parish, who was turning his back on her, nodded ; but Abraham, who was standing next to him, frowned, worry clearly written on his face.

“Now, Moloch has a new purpose for her,” he said with a satisfaction that made something snap inside Enola.

“And what might that be ?” she asked loudly, stepping in the doorway.

Oh, how she enjoyed the shock that appeared on his face ! He hurriedly thrust his hand in a pocket of his coat, no doubt trying to take the vial of cursed dry blood, but she didn’t let him finish his gesture : she rushed to him and punched his head ; the warlock collapsed, unconscious even before touching the floor. As much as she hated him, Enola wouldn’t kill Katrina’s son in front of her. The other three men, however, weren’t so lucky : Enola had switched into full vampire-mode and she showed no mercy to those who worked for Parish and Moloch.

She lunged at the doctor, whose head she grabbed and twisted ; his neck snapped with a sickening crack. She took one twirling step forward to increase the momentum of her swinging arm, and her fist collided with Minion 1’s chest, shattering his ribs and exploding his heart. Minion 2 tried to take advantage of the second Enola took to shove Minion 1’s corpse away from Katrina, and made a run for the door ; he gasped when his collar, grabbed from behind by an iron grip, brutally dug in his throat. He grasped the fabric to try and pull it away from his skin, but the vampire caught one of his wrists and twisted it in his back ; her other hand clawed his jaws and held his head up.

Then she sank her fangs in his neck.

The man screamed in pain and panic, writhing to try to wrench himself away from her grip, but she hardly paid any attention to this or to Katrina’s shocked gasp. She only felt the exhilaration of letting go for the first time : this time she didn’t have to restrain herself ; this time she was biting to kill. And she didn’t do it cleanly : she tore the flesh, letting blood flow outside her mouth, smear her lips and run down her chin. The man’s jolts quickly weakened and when they ceased, Enola released him ; he slumped to the floor, dead. The thrill of the kill coursing through her veins, the vampire looked down at him with a satisfied smirk, although it quickly vanished when she remembered Katrina. She put her human mask back on and turned around ; the witch visibly flinched, and it was like a splash of cold water on her face : she realized what she must look like and she had to refrain from wiping her mouth and her chin with her hand –it would only make it worse. She noticed that Abraham only looked a bit surprised : there was no trace of shock or horror on his face. _Mind you,_ he _decapitates random people as a hobby_. But still –and curiously– it brought her a twinge of comfort : at least not everyone in the room was looking at her as if she were a rabid animal.

“Did you kill Henry ?” Katrina asked in shaky voice.

Enola glanced at the unconscious warlock with indifference and shook her head.

“No, I didn’t. He won’t wake up soon though, and he may have a concussion ; but honestly, I won’t lose sleep over it. Right now, I’m more worried about you.”

And for good reasons : the witch’s face was ashen, her forehead was covered by a film of sweat and her hands were shaking ; she gave off the sweetish smell of sickness.

“I woke up this morning in this state,” Katrina explained, still warily eyeing Enola. “I am positive this illness is unnatural.”

The vampire nodded. The urge to wash her face from the blood she felt drying on it was becoming harder and harder to resist.

“Sit down and drink some fresh water,” she advised. “I’m going to wash my face.”

She abandoned her coat and her scarf on a chair, then strode to Katrina’s bathroom, which communicated with her bedroom through a door. When she saw her reflection in the mottled mirror above the washbasin, she gasped.

“Sekhmet and Anubis…” she whispered.

Her lips, the skin around her mouth, and her chin were covered in blood ; it was beginning to coagulate, which made it darker, but it still glistened in the pale light flowing through the window. She didn’t even want to imagine what she looked like when her eyes were filled with blood and her fangs, bared ; her breath still caught in her throat at this thought. She suddenly felt as if the blood were burning her skin and she frantically turned the faucet handle, making it squeak, and after a series of noises in the plumbing, water gushed in the porcelain sink. Enola plugged the drain hole with the stopper –her hands were shaking, she had to make two attempts before succeeding– and waited for the water to rise in the sink ; it was agonizingly slow, as if the water were taking its sweet time and mocking Enola’s too-rapid breathing. The young woman clenched her jaws not to scream in frustration. _Allez allez allez._ When at last the sink was half-filled with water, she turned off the tap and brought her face close to the water, which she cupped in her hands and splashed on her mouth and chin.

Enola repeated the gesture during a good minute, frenetically, completely absorbed by the urge to get rid of the blood on her face. Her wet fingers wiped the thickening blood until she felt her skin underneath them, her drenched palms trailed down her mouth and chin until they only left water behind them. _Va-t’en va-t’en va-t’en._

Then she saw that the sink was filled with red water, and she froze. Looked up. In the mirror, her reflection was staring at her with wide eyes and tousled hair ; a few wet dark red strands were stuck to her cheeks. The tip of her chin was still stained with blood ; the lower half of her face was dripping with reddish water. And it hit her like a horse at full speed.

_I killed three men._

_I took three lives._

Her stomach lurched and her lunch rose in her throat like a sob. She bent convulsively over the sink, clamping a hand on her mouth and screwing her eyes shut. _No not here not now no no no._ She swallowed and swallowed, feverishly, until the content of her stomach was back in place. Her breathing ragged, her legs shaking, her head spinning, she clung to the edge of the sink as if it were the only thing keeping her from drowning. _I killed. I killed. I killed._

She wanted to run to Abbie and Ichabod. She wanted to hug them and tell them what she had done and hear their comforting words. She wanted to curl up somewhere and cry over the death of a part of her innocence. She wanted to rant about the war that had turned her into a killer.

She couldn’t.

She had no time.

Katrina was sick and Parish had something to do with it : she had to be taken to a hospital and thoroughly examined. Abbie and Ichabod had to be called and informed of the situation. So for now, Enola had to shove her distress at the back of her mind and lock it there ; she had to calm down. The thought made her laugh shakily : easier said than done… Closing her eyes and letting her head hang, she forced herself to breathe deeply and slowly to calm her racing heart. She started humming _Lily’s theme_ from the soundtrack of _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows,_ and let the wordless melody fill her mind until, for a couple of minutes, the world was reduced to it.

She didn’t even hear Abraham approaching the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And why is it Abraham who's coming, and not Katrina ? Well, you'll have to wait the next chapter to get the answer !  
> If you've never listened to the soundtrack of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, you should : most of the tracks are really great ! The composer is Alexandre Desplat, and as far as it concernes film OSTs, he's my favourite.  
> Anyway, I'll spend two more chapters on this episode, and there will be several major differences with the series.
> 
> French translation :  
> Allez : Come on  
> Va-t'en : Go away


	17. Hell is empty...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone ! Welcome to the continuation, but not the conclusion, of the Deliverance episode ! And thank you for the kudos and the comments ! I'm sorry for not updating sooner : I'm going through a rough patch and most days it's hard to find a reason to get out of bed. I'll post three chapters right now to make up for the delay.  
> By the way : the titles of this chapter and of the next one form a quote from The Tempest by Shakespeare (said by Ariel in Act 1 scene 2, to be more specific).

When Enola was gone, Katrina asked Abraham to carry her son to the living room and lay him on one of the sofas ; she herself sat down in the armchair closest to him while Abraham paced around the room.

"I should probably go and check up on Enola," the witch whispered after a couple of minutes of silence.

Abraham stopped pacing and sceptically glanced at her : reluctance, although faint, was clearly written on her face. She was probably still thinking about the way Enola had bled the third man dry by opening his throat with her fangs. He frowned : yes, the spectacle hadn't been very pleasant to watch, but it wasn't as if Enola had ripped the man's flesh to shreds ; she hadn't taken her time in killing them, hadn't played with them. She hadn't been cruel. Really, Katrina and he had seen worse. And honestly, what did the witch expect ? Enola was a _vampire_ , for crying out loud ! A predator whose fangs were her weapons : of course she'd use them ! A sarcastic half-smile stretched Abraham's lips : he was ready to bet Katrina had more or less forgotten that Enola was a vampire, since the latter had never acted like one in front of her ; Enola's earlier actions had reminded her of this fact, and brutally so. By the way…

"It's the first time she kills someone, is it not ?" he asked Katrina.

The witch nodded, frowning and fiddling with her fingers.

"It is," she said softly. "She must not be feeling well… I will go and see her."

Abraham scoffed, stopping the move she was making to stand up. She looked at him with surprise.

"Is something wrong ?" she asked acidly but calmly.

"She knows how you feel about what she did," he pointed out while struggling to remain as composed as the witch. "Your presence will certainly make her worse."

"Then maybe you should go yourself," Katrina suggested in the same tone –by Moloch, at least with Enola he could have had a proper argument, with shouts and curses.

Then he realized what the witch had just said and he almost choked.

"Excuse me ?!" he all but spat. "You know how we feel about each other !"

"Precisely. I doubt she cares about _your_ opinion, so she will not be hurt."

 _Well, that_ and _you don't think she acted like a beast_ , the little voice at the back of his mind added. He held back a grunt : lately, that voice had intervened more and more frequently ; it was beginning to be annoying, all the more so as it was often right. As in this case. Abraham pursed his lips and pondered Katrina's suggestion : he remembered vividly how horrible he had felt after his first kills during the war, and how he had been glad to find a sympathetic ear to listen to him and comfort him. He couldn't provide one for Enola, but at least he could make sure she wouldn't completely break down –now wasn't the time, not with Katrina's strange illness.

"Fine," he eventually grumbled. "I will need your necklace."

Was it relief he just saw flash in Katrina's eyes ? He swallowed the caustic _I thought she was your friend_ poised on his tongue.

"Of course," she said.

She removed the chain from her neck and handed it to him ; he strode to her to take the jewel and left the room. _All right, all I have to do is to make sure she's not curled up on the floor and crying. I doubt she will be, not here. She's too proud for that. "Are you all right ?" "Yes, I'm fine." "Perfect, we're waiting for you." That's it. She won't answer "No", not to me. Why did I agreed to this, again ?_ When he entered Katrina's bedroom, he strained his ears almost painfully, praying he wouldn't hear any suspicious noise –like, Moloch forbid, sobs. But much to his relief and his confusion, all he picked up was a faint, modulated humming. He approached the open bathroom door as quietly as he could and peered inside : Enola was standing in front of the washbasin, her hands clenched around the edge of the porcelain sink and her head hanging ; all her slender body radiated tension. She was quietly singing a wordless tune, her soft beautiful voice harmonizing perfectly with the sad, tender melody, and it made something shiver inside him. It had never occurred to him that such a gentle melodious sound could pass her lips, which in retrospect seemed stupid : of course she could be nice ! She was with Katrina, right ? Her singing, however, was truly new to him. _Mezzo-soprano_ , he noticed idly. Warm. Light. Agile. It drifted to him like a stream of warm air. He didn't have the heart to interrupt her : he leant against the doorframe and let her voice wash over him. Only when the last note was released in the air, where it floated for a few seconds, did he knocked at the door to announce his presence.

Enola whipped around, surprise written on her face –a surprise that turned into puzzlement when she saw him. However, she quickly schooled her features in an irritated expression.

"What is it ?" she asked testily.

It was a good thing she couldn't see Abraham's head right now, because he was outright ogling her : head held high, messy dark red locks, damp wisps sticking to her cheeks, eyes glowing with irritation, wet lips glistening, reddish drops of water clinging to her pale skin, even the blood stain left on her chin… She made him think of a lioness watching the human who had just disturbed her, half-vigilant half-disdainful. If she had looked serene and vulnerable when he had seen her asleep, she now looked proud and wild. And _very_ desirable.

_What ?! No !_

He couldn't –wouldn't– think of her that way ! Katrina was his one true love, his future bride, and he would _not_ besmirch his feelings for her with… with _indecent_ thoughts about another woman ! A woman who was his _enemy_! _Moloch_ , why was it so difficult to think of her as an enemy when he remembered her singing ?

He suddenly noticed than she had folded her arms and was frowning with confusion. And then he remembered that she could feel his eyes on her. Feel some of the emotions in his gaze. _Damn it, you idiot…_ He could have punched himself. He quickly prayed to Moloch that she hadn't perceived _every_ emotion he had just experienced, because this could lead to a _very_ awkward conversation… A _ll right, enough blunder, just give her the necklace, say your piece, and leave._ He came closer to the young woman and handed her Katrina's jewel. She lifted a perplexed eyebrow, but didn't say anything and took the silver chain to hang it around her neck.

"What is it you want to tell me ?" she then asked evenly.

"I simply wished to make sure you're all right," he answered in the same tone, staring at a point just above her head.

Much to his surprise, she let out a short bitter bark of laughter.

"Do I look all right ?"

Abraham was so taken aback by her half-admission that he looked straight in her eyes. Only then did he notice, behind the sarcasm caused by his enquiry, a hollowness that wasn't there before ; as if a light had gone, snuffed out by her killing the three men.

"I… no, I… suppose you don't," he faltered.

_Damn it ! She was supposed to be too proud to admit it ! Now what ?_

"Well, that's probably because I'm _not_ all right," she grated, fiddling with the thin gold ring, inlaid with a single ruby, adorning the middle finger of her right hand.

He briefly wondered if a man had given it to her – _and what if it is the case ?_ – before focusing on her words.

"I presume this has something to do with the three men you killed ?"

 _You just_ had _to be sarcastic, did you ?_ But he was uncomfortable, and he was trying to hide it. _At least she's not crying…_ Naturally, his tone earned him a heated glare from Enola.

"Yeah, well, I guess it's just a trifle for you," she shot back.

_Ouch. Touché._

"I am _Death_ , Miss Vallombreuse," he pointed out impatiently. "Killing is in my nature, it's an urge I cannot always control."

"Oh _please_ Abraham !" Enola exclaimed, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "You're not _only_ Death ! There's still a man somewhere inside you, otherwise you wouldn't be here."

 _No ! Don't let her go there !_ So much simpler to let people think he was only the Horseman of Death ; so much safer. At least they wouldn't try to dig deeper. And he wouldn't start questioning himself. So he took a step back, folded his arms and retorted as coldly as he could :

"I am here because Katrina wasn't eager to come herself, and to make sure you were well enough to take care of her. Do not make the mistake to believe my action was motivated by any other reason."

The hurt that flashed in her eyes immediately made him regret his words, but he didn't back down.

"Fine," she said icily. "Well, as you can see I'm not a total wreck, so you can _leave_."

They glared daggers at each other for a couple of seconds, then Abraham stormed out of the bathroom. Enola gritted her teeth and, forcing herself to breathe slowly and deeply, she swallowed the frustrated scream threatening to burst out of her mouth. She turned around to the washbasin and wetted her hands before rubbing the blood stain on her chin ; then she removed the stopper from the drain hole and stared at the small whirl forming in the sink, without seeing it.

_So, Katrina wouldn't come herself, uh ?_

This hurt. Badly. Clearly the witch had been shocked by the way she had killed the last man, _but she knows I'm a vampire ! That's how we feed and kill !_ The memory of her bloodied face didn't bother her anymore : _it was just blood, and blood is what I drink to live._ Besides, it wasn't as if her whole face had been covered in it ; her clothes weren't even stained ! All right, she had looked a bit bestial, but vampires were _predators_ , there _was_ something beast-like in them, something wild and primal. Yes, the more she thought about it, the less she regretted her killing the man with her fangs : she was a vampire, and Daniel had taught her to accept this ; taught her to accept the fact she was no longer human.

And if Katrina couldn't take that, then she couldn't be her friend.

Enola was a vampire, but not a monster, so she didn't kill her preys. Yet, today, she had killed. _But they weren't innocent ! They were working to destroy mankind, damn it !_ She truly thought they had deserved to die, she didn't exactly regret killing them… But it still upset her. She grunted her shook her head. _Come on, girl, now isn't the time to psychoanalyse yourself._ She grabbed the washcloth hanging on the rim of the bathtub and dabbed her face dry before putting it back in place ; then she tidied up her hair, took a deep breath and strode out of the bathroom. Her features were schooled into an impassive mask and her eyes showed no emotion. The discussion she needed to have with Katrina could wait. She had a phone call to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Yeah, I don't really like Katrina, but that much is pretty obvious now...  
>  Did you think Enola and Abraham were going to have a heart-to-heart discussion ? Open up to each other ? Share a nice moment ? Well nooo ! Not so soon ! Yes but... did you see ? His words hurt her ! So she's beginning to care a little bit ! We're progressing ! By the way, if you're interested in knowing exactly what Enola's daylight ring looks like, there's a drawing of it on my tumblr -I'm black-paws-soaring and my blog is called Story Box.


	18. ... and all the devils are here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third and final part of the Deliverance episode ! Enjoy !

Enola dialled Abbie's number as she strode to the dining room ; fortunately, the Witness quickly picked up her phone and the vampire explained the situation.

"Are you okay ?" Abbie asked, worry clear in her voice. "It's the first time you kill someone, right ?"

"Yes, it is, and no, I'm not okay," Enola sighed, searching the dead men's pockets for the car keys. "But I don't have the luxury to dwell over that yet."

"We'll talk about it later," the Witness promised. "Take Katrina to Westchester General, Crane and I will join you there."

"Will do," Enola agreed, just when her hand closed around the cold metal of the car keys.

She hung up her phone and pocketed it with the keys ; she put on her coat and her scarf, and went to the living room. Katrina sat in one of the armchairs, her eyes closed and looking paler than earlier ; Abraham was pacing the floor and scowling. The vampire could hear a second heartbeat, and she guessed that Parish was lying on the sofa facing the hearth and turning its back to the door. She held back a snarl as hatred rose in her. _Of course, Katrina couldn't leave her precious son lying on the cold floor._

"Katrina ?" she called out from the doorway.

The witch opened her eyes and turned her head in the vampire's direction, and Abraham stopped pacing –but he didn't look at Enola.

"I'll take you to a hospital," the latter went on once she had the witch's attention. "We'll, um, _borrow_ your son's car. I wish you could change into less _conspicuous_ clothes but I guess I'll just have to find a credible explanation. Come on, let's go."

"But–" Abraham tried to protest.

The look Enola cast him would have stopped a herd of charging furious bulls.

"But _what_?" she spat venomously. "You wanted me to take care of Katrina, right ? Well, that's what I'm doing. She needs to be examined so we can figure out exactly what's wrong, and she needs proper medicine. So, if you're done wasting my time, maybe Katrina and I can go."

Enola went back to the dining room without waiting for Katrina, stepped outside and took several deep breaths : she had told herself that she'd remain aloof, but again, her temper had got the better of her. The thinly veiled horrified shock on Katrina's face was still burning her mind like a brand. That, and the fact that the witch had refused to go and see her for herself, left her with a bitter taste in her mouth. _So much for eternal friendship. You're so naïve, Enola._ Abraham's words stung too, but she didn't know why ; she wouldn't dwell on it, at least not now.

Enola heard Katrina's footsteps behind her, and she set off towards the sleek black car parked on the earth trail, a dozen yards away from the estate ; when she was close enough, she pointed the small remote control attached to the key at the car, and pressed the button, unlocking the doors. She opened the front right door and waited for Katrina : the latter was hurrying towards the vampire ; she was holding a book in her hand.

"What's that ?" Enola asked, gesturing towards the book.

"One of the men brought it," Katrina explained. "I thought it could be useful."

The vampire nodded and helped the witch get in the car before settling at the wheel. She turned on the ignition, turned the car around and headed out of the forest.

…

Enola stepped out of Katrina's room when she heard the hasty footsteps, hoping that it wasn't another doctor or nurse ; she sighed in relief when she saw Ichabod and Abbie hurrying along the white corridor.

"Thank the gods you're here !" she exclaimed, hugging them quickly when they reached her.

"How is Katrina ?" Ichabod urgently asked.

"Not very well," Enola told him, shaking her head. "She has a high fever and an infection in her, um, _abdominal wall_ , to quote the doctor who examined her. But they don't know what caused it."

"Is she in this room ?" the British man went on, leaning to look past the vampire.

"Yes," the latter answered. "For now, she's asleep. I don't like the idea of waking her up, but we've got to figure out what's wrong with her. Besides, I'm ready to bet Parish's men are going to search the hospitals to find her, so we can't stay here much longer."

"I agree," Abbie chimed in. "Crane, go and wake her up, please."

"Right away," Ichabod approved, and he walked into the room.

Abbie turned her eyes to Enola again, a concerned look on her face.

"Are you okay ?" she asked, gently grabbing Enola's arm. "I know how your first kill can be tough to handle."

Enola allowed a small smile to grace her lips.

"No, I'm… not really okay, and it's not only because I killed three people," she confessed. "But I'd prefer not to talk about that right now."

The Witness smiled and slightly squeezed her friend's arm.

"Okay," she said. "Look, I know this won't make you feel better, but… You did nothing wrong. The men you killed were working to bring about the Apocalypse, they were far from innocent. And at least, that's three of them that won't attack us."

"Yeah, I suppose that's a good thing," Enola said sarcastically. "But–"

She was interrupted by a scream of pain that startled them ; it was coming from the bedroom. The two women dashed inside : Katrina was writhing on her bed, her head thrown back ; Ichabod was leaning over her and had slightly lifted the shirt of her hospital pyjama, revealing the black veins that had appeared under her ribs. They were converging to her navel, like black worms underneath her skin.

"What the hell… ?!" Enola yelped.

Katrina fell back on the bed, visibly exhausted by the seizure ; her face was ashen, a thin veil of sweat covered her forehead, and she was breathing heavily. Abbie, Ichabod and Enola exchanged an alarmed glance.

"Well, if we had any doubt whether this illness has supernatural causes…" Enola commented.

"Yeah, they're definitely gone," Abbie finished. "Look, we can't stay here, we've gotta move before Henry's men find us."

…

"Here they come," Enola hissed. "Right ahead."

Two men wearing black clothes similar to Enola's victims' had just walked through the double door at the end of the hospital corridor, and were heading right in their direction ; fortunately, the corridor was rather crowded, so they weren't spotted immediately.

"Crane, Katrina, you go your way," Abbie quickly decided. "Enola, you come with me : we're gonna trail them."

"Very well", Ichabod approved. "We shall rendezvous at the archives."

The vampire and the Witness followed the two men in black to a large warehouse off the Taconic highway. While they watched them entering the brick building, Abbie called Ichabod to tell him where they were before they slunk towards the warehouse. As soon as the Witness opened the door, gun at the ready, a foul smell hit Enola's nose, making her wince in disgust : death, decay, dry blood. Whatever Parish's minions were doing in there, it was nothing good. The pair slipped into the warehouse and quickly crouched near metal shelves filled with cardboard boxes, to avoid being seen by the men behind them ; there were two of them, Enola could hear their heartbeats and their footsteps. One was talking on his phone about losing Katrina and about the translation of a tablet. Abbie and Enola exchanged a perplexed look and continued their exploration, as silent as shadows. They crept along the partition formed by the shelves, then turned right into a small room, separated from the room the men were in by a blueish plastic strip curtain. Their gazes immediately fell on the mortuary trolley on their right : a body was lying on it, hidden under a blue sheet ; the smell of death and decay almost made Enola gag and she covered her nose with her hand. Abbie, noticing her discomfort, slightly squeezed her shoulder and cast her a worried glance ; the vampire managed a reassuring smile : yes, she'd be fine. Both women snuck up to the plastic strip curtain, passing a couple of small metal trolleys bearing ominous instruments, mostly scalpels, pincers and syringes. They peered into the other room, where one of the man was still talking on his phone : it was filled with medical equipment, including a… delivery bed ? _What the fuck ?_ The other man, the one who wasn't on the phone, was handling a stone tablet engraved with cuneiform inscriptions.

Abbie took a picture of the scene with her phone before tugging at Enola's coat sleeve to get her attention and gesturing to her to move away from the curtain.

"We need to get this tablet," Enola whispered in her friend's ear when they far enough not to be heard.

"And I need to take some more pictures I can show to the sheriff," Abbie whispered back. "She'll be happy to have her chance to clean up Sleepy Hollow, and I need her happy," she explained when she met Enola's questioning gaze.

"Okay, let's distract them," the vampire declared. "A bit of noise should be enough."

…

Ichabod, Abbie and Enola had brought Katrina to the late Sheriff Corbin's cabin, and the witch was now sleeping in the bedroom. The two humans and the vampire were sitting at the dining table, drinking coffee –Abbie– and tea –Ichabod and Enola. Enola's face was sullen : she couldn't believe Parish had made Katrina pregnant with _Moloch_. She couldn't believe he had been more than ready to inflict such pain on his own mother, to condemn her to death. She couldn't believe Katrina still hoped there was some good in him still. _How naïve !_ It had taken all her will not to yell at her how foolish, how _stupid_ she was to think he could change. _He won't change ! It's far too late for that._ Yes, Parish was her son, but _damn it_ , he had been willing to _sacrifice_ her to fulfil his master's plans ! How could she not resent him for that ? Enola would never understand, and never agree. She hated Parish with every fibre of her being, and she _would_ kill him. Sooner or later. Katrina's feelings be damned. Their friendship was already half-broken anyway, if not completely. Enola doubted she would ever forgive the witch for sending Abraham to check up on her, instead of going herself. And she doubted Katrina would ever stopped seeing her as the one who had killed a man by ripping his throat open with her teeth. Almost an animal.

And it was at this moment Enola realized she had _completely_ forgotten to take the vial of dry blood away from Parish. _Holy fucking shit ! How much more_ moronic _can you be ?!_ All her anger turned against herself and she had to put her mug of tea on the table and let go of it before she broke it. If she were alone, she'd have screamed in frustration and rage, but as it were, she had to content herself with gritting her teeth so hard they almost turned into powder. _By all the gods in Olympus and Hades !_ Maybe she should've let Abraham chop her head off : apparently, she didn't use it anyway. The _one thing_ Parish could use to make her worst fear –namely, becoming a monster– come true, and she had _forgotten_ it ! _Mais quelle CONNE !_

"Enola ? You okay ?"

Abbie's voice startled the vampires from her grim thoughts and she looked up at her friends, who were gazing at her with concern.

"Are you thinking about these men you… dispatched ?" Ichabod enquired as tactfully as he could.

"I… Yes," Enola lied.

In truth, she hadn't thought about them since Ichabod and Abbie had joined her at the hospital, but know that Ichabod talked about it, her unease came back.

"You did nothing wrong," Ichabod asserted, taking her hand and looking straight in her eyes. "If not for you, Katrina would be dead and Moloch would be walking this earth. Besides, these men were working to raise Hell on Earth : they deserve their fate."

"Crane's right," Abbie chimed in. "Killing those men doesn't make you a murderer : it makes you a fighter in this war."

As grateful for their words as Enola was, Katrina's look of shock and mild horror was still present in her mind : what if Abbie and Ichabod reacted the same way when they'd learn how she had killed the third man ? _Might as well find out now. At least I'll know if I can still call them friends._

"I killed one of them by tearing his throat open with my fangs and bleeding him to death," she declared in an emotionless voice. "Doesn't that disturb you ?"

The two humans exchanged a mildly shocked glance, but there was no horror on their faces.

"Well… you're a vampire," Abbie said matter-of-factly. "I guess it's normal for you to kill like that. You're not human, so we can't expect you to behave exactly like one, right ?"

"I second that," Ichabod added. "You are no monster, Enola, you are simply different. You are simply using different weapons."

Enola released the breath she didn't even know she had been holding, and cast a grateful glance at the Witness.

"Thanks," she said.

She wouldn't have been able to bear it if they had reacted like Katrina. Maybe their reaction shouldn't have surprised her : although she had never killed anyone like that in front of them, they were more used to her vampiric behaviour than Katrina. How many times had they seen her sipping on a blood bag while pouring over the old books of the Archives ? How many times had they witnessed her incredible speed, or her inhumanly superior senses ? How many times had they seen her eyes fill with blood and her canines lengthen into fangs ? They had gotten used to her being a vampire ; Katrina hadn't. Still, even with this explanation, the witch's behaviour hurt. But it was a matter Enola would deal with later, if at all.

For a brief moment, she entertained the thought of going back to the estate to help Abraham get rid of the bodies : it was her mess, after all, and she didn't like letting people clean up after her ; it was disrespectful. But the memory of Abraham's cold, uncaring words was enough to crush this idea : they still stung and it annoyed her. She knew he hated her, especially since she had hurled a few home truths at him ; she didn't like him herself ! So why was she affected by his coldness ? The vampire drank her tea to hide her scowl behind the mug. He was an enemy and he'd always be an enemy, even if there was some humanity left in him ; even if he was _very_ handsome. And she had definitely seen enough of him for this day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time : well, I wouldn't want want to spoil everything... Just know that it won't take place during any episode. I'll resume the story itself with Magnum Opus. Just one more chapter for today.  
> Oh yeah, just one last thing : "mais quelle conne" basically means "what a dumbass". Voilà, that's all !


	19. It's where my demons hide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is much shorter than usual, but don't worry, it won't be the case of the next one ! I wanted to deal with Abraham's thoughts now that he's all alone, so there you go ! Enjoy ! By the way, the title is a line from the song "Demons" by Imagine Dragons.

Three days had gone by since Katrina had left, but it was only now that Abraham was beginning to wonder if it was really the witch's presence he missed. Because, when he went back home that morning as dawn broke, and the silence in the estate hit him again like a cold shower, he caught himself wishing for the presence of another. He quickly brushed this thought aside as he shrugged off his coat and put away his weapons ; he then headed to the living room, where he lit a fire in the hearth before flopping into the sofa facing the fireplace. Automatically, his gaze fell on the sofa on his left, where Katrina and Enola would sit for the history lessons. The sight was so familiar he could almost see them there, bent over a history book –Enola explaining and pointing at pictures, Katrina listening intently and asking questions. He could hear Katrina's hushed voice and Enola's clear one, Katrina's faint laughter and Enola's limpid one. Enola's voice raising passionately, light and shadow playing on the creamy skin of her face, her wavy hair turned into a flow of blood and her eyes into molten gold by the firelight, her white teeth gleaming, the dark red lock crossing her face and tickling her lips.

He missed it all.

He missed her presence : the house felt… warmer, fuller when she was there. She was just so much livelier than Katrina, which was ironic considering she was an undead. Even from his bedroom he could hear her laughter and the music she would play, smell the home-made food she would heat up.

He even missed their fights. He missed her blazing eyes. He missed her blunt honesty, her sarcasm, her sharp retorts. He missed her not being afraid of him.

He wanted to hear her singing again, to hear her say his name again.

The thought made him grunt and shake his head in exasperation. _Well done, Abraham, you're now waist-deep into the Maudlin Sea._

He still missed her.

And it hurt. As if someone was clenching his dead heart.

Abraham scowled : this wasn't normal. He had flaws, like everyone, but inconstancy wasn't one of them. There was no way he could be wishing for the presence of another woman, not when he loved Katrina. Unless…

He groaned and ran his branded hand down his face. Yes, this was impossible unless… unless Enola was right and he had never really loved the witch. He groaned again, burying his face in his hands. His thoughts were beginning to venture into dangerous waters he didn't want to explore. Not now, not ever. Enola Vallombreuse was his enemy, and he needed to remember it. Besides, whatever his feelings about her were, she would never return them ; of this, he was certain. Although, she _would_ blush –albeit faintly so– on the rare occasions their eyes had met ; she would immediately avert her gaze, but it did nothing to hide her suddenly pink cheeks. The memory brought a wry smile to his lips : she was probably being reminded of the particular morning when he had successfully got her flustered.

His mouth became dry when he remembered her flushed cheeks and the small flame the sight of him had lit in her eyes. As embarrassed as she might have been, she _had_ appreciated what she had seen, that much was obvious.

His mouth became even drier when he remembered why he had done this in the first place. Her hips swaying, their graceful curves tightly hugged by her trousers ; the flash of her flat stomach's milky skin, the dip of her navel. Her soaked white shirt turned transparent, revealing her undergarment, clinging to the soft swells of her breasts and to the smooth arcs of her waist. Her nightgown lifted up to her knees, uncovering her shapely legs ; her lips parted with a sigh and–

And he drew in a sharp breath when he became aware of the sudden tightness in his breeches. He jumped on his feet with a curse : he needed something to occupy his mind, _now._

 _Oh, don't be so prudish_ , the Horseman of Death in him sneered. _If you want her, just take her. That's what death does, isn't it ?_

 _One : I_ don't _want her. And two : she won't let herself be_ taken _by anyone, let alone_ me _. So shut up_ , Abraham retorted angrily.

_You could at least try. If she could be turned to our cause…_

Abraham laughed sarcastically at this thought.

_If you think she'll change side for me, you really are a fool. She cares too much for the Witnesses, she'll never betray them._

_Then make her love you. It's amazing the foolish things people do out of love._

_She hates me, you idiot._

_That sounds like the beginning of a love story, not the end of one. Just keep it one-sided though. Or you'll become useless._

_Just shut up._

_Fine. But just stop being so mawkish, or I_ will _be sick._

Abraham sighed loudly : he was having a conversation with himself. _Now_ he was insane. He was pretty sure it was Enola's fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh... Don't worry dear, you'll see Enola again soon enough...  
> Anyway : as you can see, Abraham is starting to differentiate himself from the Horseman of Death. It's a good thing, no ? Although, now that I think of it, it is a rather schizophrenic situation...
> 
> Comment ? Please ? And should I forget to update again, don't hesitate to remind me.


	20. Butting heads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand here we go ! Magnum opus ! The end is near ! Well, the end of Moloch at least, not the end of this story ^^ Just so you know, I'm devoting this chapter and the beginning of the next one to this episode ; after that, I'll deal with The Akeda. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter !

"Okay, I'll join you there as soon as the meeting's over."

Enola hung up her phone and grabbed her shoulder bag before exiting the classroom and heading towards the meeting room of the high school. This evening, those among the teaching staff who were concerned by the problem were gathering to discuss the cases of four exceptional pupils, and as the teacher of one of them, Enola had been invited. She had no idea when the meeting would end, but she hoped it was _before_ Abbie and Ichabod were decapitated or turned into stone.

When Enola left the high school, it was well past sunset, especially since it was the end of autumn. The full moon shone brightly in the sky, and the air was bitingly cold. She drove home on the motorbike she had recently rented ; once in her flat, she dumped her school stuff, grabbed her katana and poured over her map of the state. _So, Abbie said "at the end of the river that looks like a snake"_. _Ah, here… Right. I'd better take the map._ She changed her ankle boots in favour of her knee-high laced-up Dr Martens, and put on her leather jacket instead of her duffle coat, before setting off towards the ruins supposedly containing Methuselah's sword.

Fortunately, she found them quickly ; she parked her Ducati Monster 1200 in the vast courtyard enclosed by high brick walls pierced with tall semi-circular arches, and left her helmet on the seat. Acheron was there too, standing at the back of the courtyard, near a brick platform ; in its centre, a large trapdoor was gaping. The horse gazed at her with his hellish eyes and greeted her with a short neigh.

"Hello to you too Acheron," Enola answered, striding to the stallion to pat his neck.

She could hear the sounds of clashing swords rising from the cave under the trapdoor, accompanied by loud voices : she recognized Ichabod's and Abraham's. _So the gorgon must be dead. Good._

"You'll excuse me, Acheron, but I have to prevent your master from killing my friend," the vampire sighed. "I'll try not to damage him too much, but it's just because I like you."

The horse snorted with amusement and bumped her shoulder with his nose. After a last pat, Enola hurried down the spiral stone staircase.

"I was supposed to the hero of the story, not the villain !" Abraham was angrily shouting at Ichabod when Enola dashed into the cavern crowded with statues.

The vampire stopped dead and blinked incredulously at these words. They sounded so… childish.

"Seriously ?!" she blurted out, effectively drawing both men's attention to herself.

A mix of surprise and resignation briefly appeared on Abraham's face, while Ichabod was clearly relieved.

"We're not in a _fairy tale_!" the vampire went on, glaring at the undead Horseman. "This is real life : people aren't _born_ heroes or villains, they become one or the other by making their own choices ! And _you_ chose to become the Horseman of Death ! _You_ chose to serve Moloch !"

Now she was shouting and furiously pointing at Abraham.

" _You_ chose to be the villain ! You're the _only_ responsible for your fate, so don't you _dare_ blame Ichabod !"

She stepped forward threateningly until her face was barely an inch away from Abraham's.

"And all that because you were _too proud_ to let Katrina go," she hissed. "Too proud to admit it was _your fault_ that she left you !"

Abraham snapped and, accompanied by a furious growl, his hand flew towards Enola's face ; but the vampire was already gone and his palm hit only air.

"Am I wrong ?"

He whirled around and met Enola's harsh stare : the young woman was standing beside Ichabod with her hands firmly propped on her hips. She looked as fiery as ever ; half her face was glowing an eerie red from the flare, the other half was plunged into shadow among which her eye glinted. Her words struck as true as usual, too. And hurt just as badly. Only, pain had never daunted him ; if anything, it made him angrier.

"Yes !" he yelled, swinging his axe at Enola.

She easily dodged the blow, and when he recovered his balance, she was standing there, her arms folded, her head cocked, and a corner of her lips pulled up into a mocking smile.

"Repeat it, but more convincingly this time," she sneered.

He opened his mouth to say –or shout– a retort, but she didn't give him the time to do so.

"By the way, how is it that I can see your head ?" the vampire asked with curiosity. "Katrina's not here."

"Everyone must wear their true face here," Abraham explained with a smirk. "And yours is that of a vampire."

"Of course, that's what I am," Enola replied easily. "And yours is that of a man. How telling."

Abraham blinked, unable to find an answer to her words : not only had she dodged his verbal blow as easily as she had his axe strike, but she had also delivered a hit of her own. Or was it a compliment ? No doubt in her opinion it was a good thing not to be only the Horseman of Death. In _his_ opinion, however, letting people see anything else than Death was a weakness ; and he couldn't afford to be weak, especially when facing Enola who'd lunge at the slightest opening. Too bad that, no matter how hard he scrambled for a reply, he couldn't find anything to say. The enchantment in the cave was _showing_ his human face : what could he deny in that ? No, all he could do was to pretend his remaining humanity _wasn't_ a weakness ; hopefully that would get the vampire to drop the subject.

"So what ?" he thus dropped as evenly as he could.

Enola raised a somewhat surprised eyebrow : she had expected a defensive attitude, anger. Not this almost _bored_ tone _._

"Sooo… You may not be beyond redemption after all ?" she suggested with false hesitation.

 _Aha ! There you are !_ Anger had set Abraham's eyes ablaze, turning the layer of fake indifference into ashes and betraying his true emotions. _I_ knew _he was pretending…_ She guessed he considered his humanity –what was left of it– as a weakness, which he didn't want her to know. _Well, too late._

"I _don't_ need _redemption_ ", he growled, his grey eyes narrowed.

"Excuse me ?!" Enola scoffed. "You're working with Moloch to bring about the _fucking Apocalypse_! I'd say there's a lot here that needs redemption ! Not to mention this isn't your only wrongdoing !"

"You're saying this as if I should regret what I've done !" Abraham shouted, taking a step towards the vampire.

"Well you should !" the latter replied in the same tone, also stepping forward.

" _I am Death_! Killing people is what I do !"

"I thought we'd already established that you're not _only_ Death ! Just as _I_ am not _only_ a blood-sucking undead !"

"Precisely ! _Not only_! Death is still in my _nature_ ! Have _you_ given up drinking human blood ? _No_!"

"But _I_ don't kill innocent people !"

"So I should kill animals like the _sad excuses for vampires_ you talked about ?!"

"You shouldn't kill _innocent_ people !"

"Are you suggesting I skulk around the town, looking for –what ? Rapists ? Muggers ? Murderers ?"

"MAYBE !"

Abraham's cold dark aura was almost overwhelming now, as always when he was furious ; Enola could feel it weighing on her, trying to seep into her and spread the primal fear of death in every fibre of her being, but her anger was too hot and too powerful : it kept the cold and the fear at bay, warmed her and fuelled her boldness. She didn't back down, and now they were so close to each other she had to crane her neck and he had to lean so they could look in each other's eyes –their noses were practically touching. Abraham suddenly became aware of something warm tingling the cold skin of his mouth, and he made the mistake of instinctively looking down.

Enola's lips were tightened into a furious line, but this didn't make them any less tempting –if anything, it was the contrary. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Death was yelling at him to take advantage of her distraction to swing his axe at her ; maybe he'd manage to decapitate her this time, or at least make her bleed ! But Abraham's attention was currently focused on the small round beauty spot at the left corner of her mouth : it reminded him of those small velvet patches imitating beauty marks, called "mouches" and very fashionable among the eighteenth-century nobility ; their meaning changed depending on where they were placed. One put at the corner of the mouth meant "kissable".

So, yes, it was more than a little distracting.

Especially since, at this distance, he could see every single detail of her lips–the small indentations, the soft arc of her cupid's bow, the faint reflections lit by the flare's light. He wondered just how smooth and supple they would feel when pressed against his, and he knew he was in trouble : because there was no way he could focus on anything else now. He didn't even wonder why their line suddenly softened to part in obvious astonishment.

Just when she was about to go on ranting, Enola noticed that her opponent's eyes had lowered and lost their fury, now replaced with… a familiar flame.

_Oh gods. I'm hallucinating. Did someone slip LSD in my afternoon snack ?_

It wasn't as strong as lust, but it _was_ yearning. Directed at her lips. He wanted to kiss her and for one crazy second, Enola considered encouraging him. The idea made her reel back, not in disgust but in utter shock : since when was _kissing the Horseman of Death_ an option ?! Bloody hell, even if they weren't enemies, she didn't even _know_ him ! Well, she knew he was proud and angry and stubborn, too much for his own good ; she knew he could be caring, Katrina had told her that much ; she knew he had a dry sense of humour, which she kind of, maybe, liked ; she knew he was interested in her history lessons and in the books she had brought ; she knew he was the only one with whom she could have a proper, anger-venting, argument ; she knew there was some humanity left in him ; and now she knew he was attracted to her –but to what extent, she had no clue– although she was certain he'd sooner cut off his own arm than admit it.

Well, she knew more about him that she had anticipated, and she was sure she was forgetting a couple of things.

Now, was _she_ attracted to him ? Yes, it had already been established. But was this attraction strong enough for her to let him kiss her ? _Hell no._ No. She had simply been… curious. Yes, that was it. Just one second of curiosity. The hand catching her arm saved her from the dangerous turn her thoughts were taking.

"Enola, we must go and help the Leftenant," Ichabod whispered.

The vampire was still staring at Abraham's inscrutable face with astonishment, so it took a few seconds for her to process the Witness's words.

"Oh, er… yes of course," Enola hastily replied. "I'll just, uh, win us some time."

And she performed a perfect reverse roundhouse kick that sent Abraham flying across the cavern. Ichabod and she didn't wait to see his landing and bolted in the corridor that stretched behind them, followed by a furious stream of curses.

"Leftenant ! The sword !" Ichabod shouted while running.

"I'm trying !"

Abbie's muffled voice came from behind a door standing at the end of the passage ; just when Ichabod and Enola reached it, they heard Abbie let out a half-startled half-frightened cry : they exchanged a worried glance and threw the double door open. They burst into a small chamber built in stone, in the centre of which stood a stone basin that looked like a stoup ; two torches were propped against it thanks to two thick iron rings, one opposite the other. The slabbed ground was crawling with snakes and Methuselah's sword was nowhere to be seen.

"Where the hell do those snakes come from ?!" Enola exclaimed, warily eyeing the reptiles that were now disappearing in holes at the base of the basin and of the walls. "And where's the fucking sword ?!"

"There were sword around the basin, but when I took one, they all turned into snakes," Abbie explained while Ichabod slammed the door behind him and barred it –but it still looked frail compared to the fury of the Horseman of Death.

"So there's no sword ?!" Enola all but shrieked indignantly.

"I _am_ gonna kick some Templar ass in the afterlife," Abbie grated.

"Yeah, me too," Enola huffed. "Unless I land straight in Hell for being a vampire. In that case, do it for me okay ?"

She just couldn't believe it : her friends had taken _huge_ risks to retrieve Methuselah's sword, and it wasn't even there! _And people ask me why I don't believe in God…_ At this very moment, the bar blocking the door was cut clean in a shower of sparks by a sword thrust into the interstice between the door leaves. The door was flung open and Abraham stepped into the room, shotgun at the ready ; he smirked when he spotted his three enemies lined up near the right-hand wall.

"How efficient," he sneered, aiming his shotgun at Ichabod. "Three in one shot."

Enola smiled disdainfully. _As if he could kill me with that…_ But it wasn't something he needed to know. Their eyes met for a handful of seconds and embarrassment immediately flashed in his. _He knows I know about his… his…_ His what, exactly ? Crush ? Infatuation ? Or was it only desire ? _And why the fuck do I want to know that ?! I shouldn't give a damn ! I should be disgusted !_ Only, she wasn't : she was curious. _Does that mean his obsession with Katrina is finally fading ?_

"Where is the sword ?" Abraham suddenly demanded in a loud voice that startled Enola from her thoughts.

Only then did she realize that she'd been staring thoughtfully at him for a good minute. Hopefully, no one would notice her suddenly pink cheeks. _No, if Abraham had, he'd have that stupid smirk of his. Thank the gods._

"It does not exist," Ichabod replied dryly, but his former friend didn't believe him.

"Liar !" he shouted angrily, firing at the ceiling, which caused a small shower of dust and chunks of rock.

Enola winced at the loud noise : she felt as if someone was mistaking her eardrums for _actual_ drums.

"True !" Abbie countered before the vampire could come up with some smartass reply. "Look around… no sword," she added when her enemy sceptically glanced at her.

"All these years, all these great adventurers, and now us… come for nothing," her fellow Witness went on in a low tone.

"Nothing ?" Abraham repeated with a somewhat sadistic smile that Enola didn't like _one bit_. "No, old friend: _you_ have come to die."

At the second he uttered these last words, Enola knew what would happen. So, when Abraham fired, she had already lunged, pushing Ichabod out of the way.

The bullet hit her square in the chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand cliffhanger ! I'd say I'm sorry but that would be a big lie, mwahaha ! Okay, okay : we know Enola can't die that way, well not permanently that is. But Abraham doesn't ! MWAHAHAHA !  
> Also, Enola's beginning to feel something for Abraham ; it took longer than for him, but the wheels are definitely in motion now. And no, they're NOT going to kiss anytime soon. Patience patience...
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are more than welcome !


	21. Playing dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand I'm late. Again. Please don't throw stones at me ! It's... complicated these days. Anyway, here's the end of the previous chapter's cliffhanger !  
> Thanks for the kudos and the comments, everyone !

A human would have been thrown backward by the impact ; Enola, a vampire with a healthy diet of human blood, simply staggered with a gasp. For a handful of seconds she stood there, wobbling, her hands raised halfway to her chest, staring confusedly at the blood flowing from the wound and blooming a scarlet flower on her white cardigan ; it quickly soaked the cashmere, causing red drops to fall on the stone ground and on her dark blue jeans.

At first Enola only felt cold, as if a gust of winter wind had pierced through her ; but then pain exploded in her body like razor blade-sharp waves that flayed her nerves. She let out a painful cry as her body finally decided to pitch forward. Abraham's shotgun clattered on the stone slabs when he dropped it to dash forward, just in time to catch Enola in his outstretched arms –it was only a reflex, of course : he couldn't just let her face-plant on the stone ground, could he ? He knelt, his right arm around her shoulders, his free hand hesitating over her wound, and paying no attention to the Witnesses hovering closely. The young woman's head was resting on his chest and she was looking at him : her tarnished-gold eyes, widened with pain, seemed huge in her colourless face –her dilated pupils looked like two black swollen ponds.

He had no idea what to do, or how to feel.

 _You just killed your most dangerous enemy !_ Death rejoiced in his mind. _Now just drop her, pick up your gun and shoot these annoying Witnesses !_

This was how he should feel. This was what he should be thinking. Instead, there were only a cold metal fist clenching his gut and a big lump in his throat ; it had been a long time since he had experienced such sensations, but he still remembered what caused them : dread. He couldn't explain it, but there was no denying it ; and as he listened to her wheezy breathing and watched her cough out blood, the fist squeezed harder and the lump swelled : one of her lungs had been hit –given the place of the wound, it had even taken the full blast. She'd soon be asphyxiated, if she didn't drown in her own blood first.

And there was nothing he could do.

 _Oh for Moloch's sake !_ Death snapped. _Just finish her off already !_

Her hair felt silky on the back of his branded hand and her shoulder fit perfectly in his palm ; he could feel her body heat leaving her with her blood. He opened his mouth, feeling that he should say something, but nothing came to his mind. What could he say, anyway ? He was used to trading shouts and barbs with her, not to comforting her.

The brassy blaring of a horn suddenly filled the room, so loud everything shook, causing dust and debris to fall from the ceiling and the walls, so loud it pressed on their eardrums and forced its way inside their skulls, squeezing their brains. Abraham wasn't bothered by the sound, but the Witnesses covered their ears, wincing in discomfort ; for Enola though, with her superior sense of hearing, it was downright torture. She writhed in Abraham's arms, coughing out more blood in her attempt to yell –it trickled from a corner of her mouth– and trying to raise a shaky hand to her exposed ear –the other one was pressed against Abraham's coat.

_Moloch is here. He's calling me to his side._

He should have been elated ; Death certainly was. Instead, a bitter taste filled his mouth at the idea of just leaving a dying Enola there, because he knew that when he'd walk through the door, he'd never see her again. _And what's the other option, huh? Staying here and watching her die ? She'll be more comfortable in_ their _arms, anyway._

He contented himself with placing his free hand over the young woman's ear, which earned him a spark of surprise in her old-gold eyes, hazy with suffering. The Shofar sounded for less than a minute, then silence fell again in the underground chamber ; the oversized hand crushing their heads had disappeared, and the Witnesses let out relieved sighs, lowering their hands. As for Abraham, he laid Enola down on the stone slabs as gently as he could –amazing how cold he suddenly felt–, trying very hard not to look at her eyes : he didn't want to see the hatred probably burning in them ; he had killed her, after all. He stood up, picked up his shotgun and walked out of the room, doing his best to block out the sounds of her raspy breathing and of her coughing. It suddenly occurred to him that their last conversation had been an argument, and a small sarcastic smile pulled up a corner of his mouth, almost against his will : it was only fitting, wasn't it ?

…

Enola awoke with a gasp and her hand flew to her chest as a phantom pain stabbed her for a second. It took a moment for her to regain her bearings : she was still in the small underground chamber, which was illuminated by the only torch remaining on the stone basin. _Abbie and Ichabod must've taken the other one._ She couldn't help smiling with amusement when she remembered the humans almost lunging at her the moment Abraham had left. She had managed to choke out a reassurance : yes, she was going to die, but it would only be temporary ; she had asked them to leave her there when they'd left and to text her their destination.

The vampire examined the damage and let out a disgruntled noise : all the front of her white cardigan and of her emerald green T-shirt were incrusted with dry blood, and it was undoubtedly the same thing for their backs since the bullet had pierced though her. That, plus the holes in both these articles of clothing _and_ in the back of her leather jacket – _holy shit ! I loved this jacket_ : yeah, her clothes were ruined ; her bra too, probably. She glanced moodily at her jeans : at least she had a chance to save _them_ , with a bottle of stain remover.

Enola briefly massaged the top of her cleavage with the tips of her fingers, wincing at the memory of the searing pain, of her panic when she had realized she couldn't breathe properly. She hadn't died because the bullet had perforated her lung –it had already started healing when Abraham had left ; no, she had died because of the blood in it, which had prevented her from taking in enough oxygen. So her body had shut down and done a spring-clean. And speaking of Abraham…

Enola was wondering whether the pain had given her a hallucination or not : had he _really_ hold her in his arms and covered her ear when the horn had sounded, or had she imagined it all ? The latter was doubtful : she _definitely_ remembered something draped across her shoulders and something else rising and falling against her cheek ; she remembered something cool pressing against her ear and blocking the torturous din from the horn ; she remembered two grey eyes filled with dismay and confusion.

Which didn't make any sense to her.

 _I mean, okay, he_ may _have a… a crush on me. But come on, I'm still the enemy, right ? He should be satisfied that I'm dead, no ? Or least, not as sad as he looked. Ugh, and they say women are complicated…_

Enola shook her head : this really wasn't the time to ponder about that. She pulled her phone from a pocket of her jacket and checked for texts : there were two from Abbie –one saying that they had the sword and were heading to Fredericks Manor, the other that they going back the Archives because they hadn't found Moloch nor Parish ; however, they had captured Abraham. _Who won't last long now that we have Methuselah's sword._ The vampire was surprised to feel a small stab of consternation at this thought, but she didn't linger on the sensation : she stood up and had to lean against the wall for a handful of second, just the time for the world to stop spinning ; her legs were slightly shaky. _I lost too much blood,_ she deduced with a scowl. _I'll need to drop by my place to grab a blood bag._ With this thought, she took the torch and left the room.

…

Abraham was staring at the large round door of the Masonic cell, barely aware of Katrina whispering spells over the chains restraining him. He was thinking about the first time he had met Enola, in this very place. She had just been another enemy, then. A perplexing one, but an enemy nonetheless. A caustic half-smile tugged at the corner of his mouth : maybe he shouldn't have tried to possess her, but he had been curious. Well, he had also wanted revenge for his defeat at her hands. His smile turned into a slight wince when he recalled _her_ revenge : the pain and the noise of his shattering ribs were still fresh in his memory. _Would I endure them again if it meant she were here ?_ Maybe. Probably. He healed quickly, anyway.

He missed her, but it was worse than when she didn't come at the estate anymore. Because this time, he had no chance to see her again. No more arguments, no more painful truths, no more sneaking books, no more golden eyes, no more clear laughter. No more fearless adversary.

"Abraham, please."

Katrina's soft voice roused him from his thoughts and he reluctantly set his eyes on her.

"Moloch did not save your life," she went on urgently. "I did. You have no reason to protect him."

"Spare me, _witch_ ," Abraham spat. "You were never anything more than a spy."

He might not care about Katrina as much as he had before, but it still hurt. To think that she had taken advantage of his feelings for her, fed him false hopes that she would be his… It hurt. Even if he no longer loved her –if he ever had : several centuries of obsessing about her couldn't just vanish in a snap.

"That is _not_ true," the witch protested with a frown. "Yes, I stayed with you to gather intelligence. But... while I was with you... I saw the real you, Abraham," she went on pleadingly. "I saw a man I haven't seen in centuries. I saw how deeply you cared for me–"

"I don't," he sharply cut her off.

 _Not anymore._ He saw confusion and surprise fill Katrina's eyes, and also a hint of hurt, but right now he didn't care. He wanted nothing more than for her to _stop talking_ , or better yet, to leave him alone.

"I… don't understand," the witch hesitated, frowning.

"And yet, it is clear," Abraham snapped. "I _do not_ love you, not anymore. Are you not satisfied ? I shall no longer pursue you, isn't this what you wanted ?

Shock was written all over Katrina's face. Then it was replaced with doubt and she searched his eyes for any sign of a lie ; when she found none, her face went blank, although he could swear disappointment had flashed in her eyes. And of course, he couldn't resist hurting her. _That's only fair._

"Are you displeased that you no longer have two men at your feet ?" he sneered. "I suppose it _was_ flattering…"

The suggestion twisted the witch's features into outrage and brought hurt to her eyes… and was there a hint of embarrassment ? Moloch, he missed Enola's blunt honesty.

"How dare you ?" the red-head hissed. "What kind of person do you think I am ?"

_Enola would have already slapped me. … And why do I feel compelled to relate everything to her ?_

"Katrina !"

Ichabod's arrival spared Abraham from answering the witch, because he knew his reply wouldn't have been very flattering ; given the facts that she was powerful and that he was currently restrained, provoking her was unwise. He doubted she'd lash out at him, but still : better be careful, for now.

…

Abraham glared straight into Irving's unyielding gaze and saw he wasn't lying. His fists tightened and he clenched his jaws : he had no desire to die, or rather to be destroyed. Because there was still a chance to get Enola back, and this chance was named _Moloch_. The demon was powerful enough to resurrect him and turn him into the Horseman of Death, powerful enough to awaken Parish and make him the Horseman of War, powerful enough to raise an entire army of demons. Surely he could bring Enola back. Which meant he had no choice but to tell them what they wanted to know, and hope they'd be defeated. He grudgingly opened his mouth to answer Ichabod, when his ears caught a strange sound coming from outside the cell. It sounded like… singing ?

_You've got me captured, I'm under your spell_

_I guess I'll never learn_

_I have your picture, yes I know it well_

_Another page is turned_

That voice… No. Impossible. Abraham felt his eyes widen almost painfully and he stared at the door as if he could drill holes in it.

_Are you for real ? It's so hard to tell_

_From just a magazine_

_Yeah, you just smile and the picture sells_

_Look what that does to me_

A sharp intake of breath : there was no mistaking. The voice was floating closer, and it _was_ hers. But it was impossible. She was _dead_! He had _killed_ her !

_I'll wait, 'til your love comes down_

_I'm coming straight for your heart_

_No way you can stop me now_

_As fine as you are_

The round door flew open and Enola twirled in with a bright smile.

"Hello everyone ! I'm back !"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now you'll just have to wait for Abraham's reaction, hehe.  
> What Enola sings is an excerpt from "I'll wait" by Van Halen. There's a playlist on my tumblr with all the songs mentioned in the story, if you're interested.


	22. Demons run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been a while... I'm very sorry about the delay : I'm preparing an application file for a creative writing course in Paris and it's taking up most of my attention and time. I'll post two chapters today, to make up for the wait.  
> By the way : the title is the very beginning of the poem recited by River Song in Doctor Who's S6E7, "Demons run when a good man goes to war."

Enola hugged the very relieved Witnesses, briefly shook Irving's hand and greeted Katrina with a curt nod : she still disapproved of the witch's going back to Parish without telling Ichabod. No, instead she had asked Abbie to relay the message ; instead she had hidden something from her husband _again_. Yet it wasn't as if she had been doing something wrong : she had had the opportunity to enter Fredericks Manor and kill Moloch, how great was that ?

Too bad she _hadn't_ killed Moloch after all.

This bothered the vampire a little, but she had decided she wouldn't judge the witch until she knew exactly what had happened.

Enola set her gaze on Abraham : he was staring at her as if he had seen a ghost, which would have made her smile if she weren't pissed about his trying to kill Ichabod.

"I killed you," he blurted out incredulously.

The vampire folded her arms, glaring at him. For a moment, she entertained the idea of not telling him anything and letting him stew in uncertainty ; what changed her mind was the genuine relief lurking at the back if his eyes. It didn't mean she forgave him for shooting Ichabod, who had done nothing to wrong him, no matter how firmly he was convinced of the contrary ; but it somewhat softened her. Not that it didn't puzzle her, though.

"Yeah, you did," she grated. "But, come on, did you really think a bullet could destroy a vampire ? Unless you use the right method, our death is only temporary."

It took a few seconds for Abraham to process the information ; then his face darkened and he averted his eyes, which made Enola roll hers with exasperation. She was ready to bet he regretted showing, even briefly, that he cared for her.

"I'm afraid you can't get rid of me so easily," she smirked, very much intent on poking him a bit.

Abraham scoffed and his glare immediately snapped back to her.

"Indeed," he huffed. "You are indestructible. Like a cockroach."

Enola's sarcastic smile immediately disappeared ; it was her turn to glare at him and his to smirk.

"I'm surprised you're not already dead, since we have the sword," she growled.

"Surprised or disappointed ?"

"Now that you've compared me to a cockroach ? Both."

"You hurt me."

"Poor thing. Would you like a kiss ?"

"I'd rather be kissed by a leper."

"Ouch. Now _I_ am hurt."

"Oh ? Yet it is common knowledge that vampires have no soul."

"That's just a myth. Proof is, I can see myself in a mirror."

"What about coffins ? Are they a myth too ?"

"Are you kidding me ? We sleep in beds. Much more comfortable. Also, much more convenient to have a tumble."

Enola saw his blush in his eyes as he pursed his lips and looked away, and she bit back a snicker. She turned towards the humans, satisfied to have had the last word, and met their perplexed gazes. That was when she realized she had _slightly_ forgotten the impending Apocalypse, and her embarrassed blush was obvious to everyone in the room. _Holy shit, Enola. You managed to get distracted from the_ fucking Apocalypse. _By a guy ! I hate myself._

"Sorry," she mumbled, stepping aside so the humans could properly look at Abraham. "I got… carried away."

They cast her a last inscrutable glance before turning their attention back to Abraham.

"Now… I think you were about to tell us where Moloch is," Irving said, stepping forward to rest the tip of the sword on their prisoner's chest, where his heart was.

Abraham glared at the police captain for a few seconds, his lips tightened, before dropping :

"The Four Trees."

"The Four White Trees ?" Jenny asked, frowning at the memories these words were bringing back.

"Not anymore," the Horseman replied flatly. "I'm afraid the trees and the forest have taken on a darker hue. War and Moloch have begun to merge purgatory and this world. With each tree that is burned black, more evil may enter. The blackening of the first white tree brought lightning."

Enola scowled at the memory of the frightful lightning strikes that had almost fried her on her bike.

"The second will bring blood," Abraham went on. "The fall of the third tree will bring Moloch's demon army. You may have seen them before."

"The zombie-things we saw in Purgatory ?" the vampire sighed with a disgusted wince. "Great."

"And the fall of the fourth tree…"

"Will complete the formation of hell on Earth," Ichabod finished grimly.

"I would hurry, were I you," the latter's former friend smirked. "Time is not on your side."

Irving shifted his arms slightly, ready to strike.

"Just say the word," he growled, glaring hateful daggers at their prisoner.

Enola felt her heart drop. _They're going to kill him._ She couldn't let them do that, and it scared her because she shouldn't have cared. A month ago, she'd probable have swung the word herself ; now the perspective of his death made her breath hitch in her throat and filled her with dread. She didn't understand… Or _wouldn't_ understand ?

"Wait," she said before her brain even registered what she was doing.

The eyes of everyone in the cell turned to her and she felt their weight like a physical thing. Fortunately, she immediately came up with a good reason for her intervention.

"He may have more useful information," she said as neutrally as she could, carefully avoiding looking at Abraham. "Let's spare him, for now."

The four humans looked at her with surprise but didn't comment on her unexpected mercy.

"Very well," Ichabod agreed in a low voice. "After all, Moloch alone is our target tonight."

Enola couldn't help raising a sceptical eyebrow : what if Parish got in their way ? Would Ichabod and Katrina be willing to spare him again ? _Uh, I don't even know why I'm wondering this :_ of course _they're going to spare him._ But instead of voicing her thought, she turned towards Abraham, from whom Irving had stepped away, and went to stand in front of him. He frowned at her questioningly… and she slapped him, _hard._

"That was for trying to shoot Ichabod," she furiously hissed in his baffled face. "Now that you can't go anywhere, how about you reflect on what I told you, hmm ?"

Puzzlement immediately changed into anger and he all but closed the distance between their faces.

"And how about _you_ reflect on what _I_ told you ?" he growled.

Enola clenched her jaws : as a matter of fact, she had already given some thought to their argument in the gorgon's cave while racing back to her flat to grab a blood bag. But she hated admitting than perhaps she had been wrong, especially to someone towards whom she didn't feel particularly friendly. Granted, she kind-of _liked_ Abraham, in a weird sort of way ; but to say she considered him a friend would be way too exaggerated. So she simply turned around and addressed the humans :

"So, what do we do now ?"

"Irving's got the sword, but if we're all going to fight a demon army, we've all got to weapon up," Jenny answered, her eyes hard with determination.

"What do you have in mind ?" Ichabod asked.

…

Jenny's car couldn't accommodate all six of them, so the Witnesses and Enola borrowed Hawley's truck. For a few minutes, they drove in a gloomy silence, all of them occupied with thoughts about the coming fight.

Six of them against an army of demons and their commander, Moloch, one of Satan's generals, a prince in Hell –at least according to Milton.

Even Enola was afraid : she had no doubt Moloch could kill her, definitely this time, wooden stake or not. _Oh gods, we're so screwed. Okay, try to think of something else… Butterflies and ladybugs, perhaps ? … Nope, it's not working._ Another sudden shower of blood hail rattled against the car, startling the vampire from her thoughts ; she glared at the red smears on the windows. Blood hail : it was so… cliché. Apparently, demons could be as unimaginative as humans. And besides, the blood didn't even taste good : not that she had tried it, but its smell of putrefaction had kind-of given her a hint.

"Enola ?"

Ichabod's voice broke the silence, its tone careful as if the Witness feared he'd startle his friends.

"Hmm ?" the vampire hummed without turning her head away from the passenger-side window.

"I think Abraham likes you."

This time, Enola's head whipped towards Ichabod : of all the things he could have said, _this_ was the less expected. Also, the most embarrassing. What the hell could she answer to that ?! Well, there were two options, really : either she admitted she already knew, or she feigned ignorance. She chose the latter : she really didn't want to explain she'd caught Abraham staring at her mouth.

" _Excuse me_?!" she spluttered, doing her best to sound completely bewildered, and even a bit angry.

Fortunately, both Witnesses seemed to buy her act.

"Well, the way he was looking at you when he thought he'd killed you was kind-of a dead giveaway," Abbie cut in without looking away from the road. "Uh… No pun intended."

Enola eyed her sceptically.

"I wouldn't know, I don't remember," she lied. "I was busy trying to breathe."

"He did not want you to die," Ichabod clarified. "For a minute, he was no longer the Horseman of Death, but a man about to lose someone precious to him."

This time, the young woman didn't have to fake her uneasiness as she folded her arms and fidgeted : not only did Abraham's affection for her made little sense to her, but it also frightened her, because she knew she wasn't completely indifferent to it –to him. And it was just wrong, because they were enemies… Oh, who was she kidding ? She was afraid because of what had happened with Daniel. Even if they weren't on opposite sides, it wouldn't change this fact : assuming they began a relationship, how long would it last ? A few years ? Then he'd tire of her ; that was just how men were. He'd leave her all alone. A couple of years of happiness weren't worth the heartache that would inevitably follow.

"He's only intrigued by me because I'm the first and only person who doesn't fear him," she dismissed more harshly than intended. "It's nothing more than a fleeting crush."

It was Ichabod's turn to glance at her sceptically, while Abbie let out a disbelieving snort.

"The man I knew was not one prone to… _fleeting crushes_ ," the British man replied. "And somehow, I suspect it is even less the case now."

"He held you in his arms and protected you from the Shofar's noise," Abbie added in an insisting tone.

"And he did not even try to perform the binding ritual with Katrina," Ichabod went on. "When we arrived at Fredericks Manor, he was simply guarding her, waiting for Moloch to decide her fate."

Enola bit her lower lip as she controlled a start. _So he_ has _changed…_ It was surprising though : they hadn't talked about his feelings for Katrina since their first argument about them. Could it be that his pride-induced obsession, despite its strength, was fading because of his feelings for _her_ , Enola ? Somehow, it made the situation even more frightening to her, and suddenly she just wanted the conversation to _end_.

"I see… How strange," she said in a strained voice. "I'll… think about it."

"Perhaps–" Ichabod began, but the vampire immediately cut him off.

"Please Ichabod, I don't want to talk about that any further," she snapped nervously.

Her friends cast her a surprised glance, but when they noticed how tensed and uneasy she was, they decided not to insist and let silence fall again. As for Enola, she pulled her iPod from her jacket pocket, put on the earphones and let _The Prowl_ by Dan Auberbach, then _Love is Blindness_ by Jack White wash over her mind and block out the questions.

…

"I can hear hoof beats !" Enola shouted while swinging her katana, which decapitated a demon soldier. "War is coming !"

And sure enough, a few seconds later, the Horseman of War burst from the misty darkness shrouding the forest, brandishing his flaming sword, and his rust-coloured horse letting out a strident neigh. Enola shuddered : the black suit of armour exuded the same malevolence, the same emptiness than the first and only time she had encountered it.

"I've got this," Irving declared as War stopped and dismounted his horse.

But he had barely taken a few steps towards the Horseman when the latter stretched out his free arm and opened his hand, revealing a small vial filled with a brown sand-like substance. Time seemed to freeze : Irving stopped in his tracks, Enola felt her eyes widened almost painfully in horror, her breath caught in her throat, a metallic taste filled her mouth and her heart stopped.

"No," she simply breathed, as if the word had the power to prevent the oncoming disaster.

She remained rooted to the ground as War's hand closed around the little bottle, squeezing it until the glass shattered with a clinking crunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look ! Another cliffhanger... Lucky for you, the next chapter is already up ! Come on, just click the button...


	23. Out for blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Abraham this time, but don't worry, you'll have plenty of him in the following chapters... Anyway, here we are : Parish sicced Enola on innocent people... Who's going to stop her ?

As soon as the dry blood was released, it flew to Enola like a swarm of angry hornets. The vampire didn't have the time to think about running away : the sand-like cloud was already on her. She howled in pain when the gritty substance shot into her nose and down her throat to her stomach and her lungs, making her feel as if they were being scoured with sandpaper. Then it stopped, and all that was left was the thirst burning her throat like hellfire and clouding her mind in a red haze. Her katana slipped from her loose grasp and hit the damp ground with a soft thud ; she vaguely heard Ichabod calling her name, the clashing of swords, but it didn't matter. What mattered was the thirst. And her preys.

She knew where they were. She had to get them. Anything to put out that fire.

Somewhere at the back of her mind, her controlled self was thrashing and screaming that she had to restrain herself, that she couldn't kill innocent people, that she had to _stay there_ …

_Soif. Soif. SOIF._

Overwhelming. The predator in her took over and all that was left in her was pure instinct. Her human mask vanished as she whipped around. She knew where to go. And with this knowledge came a promise : her thirst quenched. She took off at vampire speed and disappeared among the trees.

…

To say that Hawley was uncomfortable would have been an understatement : he didn't even dare to take his eyes off the Horseman. He had the nagging impression that, if he looked away even for a second, he'd find the headless creature free and standing right in front of him when he'd look up. Which was completely irrational, since the Horseman was thoroughly chained up and weakened by the UV lights _and_ the protective spells. Only, it was hard to remain rational when there was just a pane of glass between you and Death itself. This was why, when his phone went off, he groped around a bit to find it on the table of the surveillance room ; the second he picked it up, Abbie's urgent voice came out of it.

"Hawley, we've got a big problem and right now, you're the only one who can solve it," the Witness said.

"Wow, hold on Mills," Hawley cut her off, his eyes still glued to Death. "Is it about the Apocalypse ? 'cause I thought you had that covered ?"

"No, it's something else, the Apocalypse isn't taken care of yet. Look," Abbie went on without letting him reply, "it's Enola. Parish sicced her on innocent people ; he cursed her, she can't control herself. She's going to kill at least twenty people if we don't do anything."

"And by _we_ , you mean _me_ I guess," Hawley sighed with resignation.

"Yeah well, the rest of us are a bit busy right now," Abbie grated.

The "privateer" sighed again, running a hand through his blond hair. He had discovered Enola's true nature when she, Crane and he had fought the succubus : the angry fangs and her hurling the creature across the room had sort-of given her away. Needless to say, it had come as a bit of a shock for him.

"And how exactly do I stop a super-strong, super-fast vampire ?" he asked dryly. "I'm just a fragile human, in case you forgot. Incredibly handsome, maybe, but fragile."

"After Parish threatened Enola with that curse, she, Crane and I prepared some things just in case. Right next to the table in the surveillance room, there's a metal cabinet with a crate on its top. Everything's in that crate."

Hawley quickly spotted the long wooden crate which he brought on the table and opened : inside, laying on packing straw, there were a hypodermic shotgun, several glass vials filled with a clear liquid, and a long thin cardboard box probably containing the darts.

"What's in the vials ?" he asked, taking one of them and examining it.

"Vervain extract," Abbie answered. "Vervain hurts and weakens vampires. The darts are full of it. Splash it on her if you can, that's what the vials are here for."

"Right," Hawley just said, stuffing the pockets of his jacket and his jeans with the small bottles. "Any idea where she went ?"

"All we know is that the people she's supposed to kill live in Sleepy Hollow."

"So I'm flying blind. Great."

"Maybe you could cut yourself," Abbie suggested. "Even if you're not on her list, it might draw her to you ; and if you are, you'll surely be the first she finds."

"Am I supposed to be happy about that ?" the blonde griped, examining the hypodermic darts.

"Since it'll probably save the lives of two dozens of innocents, yeah, you are," the Witness retorted impatiently.

Hawley pursed his lips as he felt a pang of guilt : Abbie was right, right now he couldn't afford to be his usual selfish self. He knew what he was up against and he was prepared, Enola's intended victims were not ; they were completely defenceless.

"What if I'm _not_ the first person she finds ?"

"She won't be able to live with herself."

"You mean she could… ?"

"No doubt. Just find her Hawley, please. We don't want to lose her."

And thus, ten minutes later, Hawley was walking the empty streets of Sleepy Hollow, the thunder still ominously rumbling above his head. He had cut his left palm and would wave his hand in the air when he felt the wind blow, hoping it would carry the scent of blood to the vampire. His eyes were searching every patch of shadow for the familiar figure, his ears were almost-painfully strained for the slightest sound that might betray Enola's proximity –he half-expected to hear a feral, threatening growl. His whole body was tensed, as if prepared for the impact of the predator ramming into him and his heart was beating so hard he was surprised its pounding hadn't woken up the whole street yet.

Yeah, he was afraid. So what ? He was looking for a _freakin' vampire_! Hell, any sane person would run the other way. Maybe he was the one with the gun, maybe he was the one doing the searching, but he wasn't the hunter here ; he was the prey. Believing the contrary would just be plain stupid.

And that was when he felt it. This prickling sensation at the base of his skull. He was being watched. Maybe he _was_ on her list after all. He hesitated : should he let her know he was aware of her presence ? Should he try to reason with her ? _What I should do is to end this quickly._ And for that, he had to end the hunt.

"I know you're here Carmilla," he called out, waiting in the middle of the street. "Come on, take your best shot !"

For a handful of seconds, nothing happened : Hawley looked around, but the vampire was nowhere to be seen. He adjusted his grip on the shotgun, ready to fire… A feral growl rose behind him. He whirled around, raising the gun and snuggling its butt against his shoulder.

"Jesus," he breathed when he saw his hunter.

Fear clawed at his insides he realized that it would have been useless to try and talk to her. The creature in front of him had nothing to do with Enola : it was a blood-thirsty animal and he was its prey. The vampire's blood-filled eyes were burning with a savage hunger and her lips were curled up on her fangs ; she was half-crouched, like a lioness ready to pounce on its quarry. Hawley tweaked his aim and shot, but the vampire dodged the dart by plunging and rolling. Then there was a blurry movement in front of him and next thing he knew, the ground gave way under his feet. His back and his head brutally met the macadam, making him see stars and knocking the breath out of him. The impact made him drop the shotgun but he couldn't get it back : there was a body on top of him and fingers were cruelly digging in his shoulders, holding him down with incredible strength. Then something sharp sunk into his neck and he let out a short cry of pain ; he was still dizzy from the hit on his head, and now he was beginning to feel himself weakening as the vampire drank his blood. But Hawley hadn't become one of the most sought-out retrievers of supernatural artefacts for nothing : he always found what his client wanted, which meant he did _not_ give up easily. Not when he still had some tricks up his sleeves. Or, in this case, in his pockets.

He reached out and pulled a vial of vervain extract from one of his jacket pockets ; he popped the cork with his thumb and emptied the liquid on the hand gripping his shoulder. The effect was immediate : the teeth in his neck and the weight pressing him down vanished with a scream of pain and rage. He blinked and shook his head, trying to clear his mind a bit, before propping himself up on his elbows : the vampire was sitting beside him, clutching her reddened hand to her chest and whimpering faintly. But Hawley wasn't finished yet : he fished out another vial and this time, he splashed the vervain extract on her face. The vampire screamed again, louder ; she clumsily crawled backwards with one hand, frantically wiping her face with the other and burning it in the process. Hawley didn't waste any time : he scrambled on his feet and, doing his best to ignore his reeling head, he picked up the shotgun, which was lying not far from his feet ; he quickly aimed and shot. The vampire collapsed, her mewling dying on her lips, and a red dart sticking out of her neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes, I wrote from Hawley's point of view for the first, and probably last, time ; I hope I did it well...  
> I suppose it's easy to guess whether Enola had already killed someone when she encountered Hawley... If you don't want to try to guess, you'll have to wait a bit ^^  
> One last thing : Carmilla (one of Hawley's nicknames for Enola) is the eponymous vampire from Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu's novel.
> 
> And now that you're done reading, how about you leave a comment ?


	24. The devil to pay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tadaa ! New chapter ! I know, I'm late again :/ I was busy...  
> I realized that I forgot to translate a French word in the previous chapter : "soif" means "thirst". Although, the way I used it, it rather means "thirsty" : it's as if I had written "J'ai soif" (I'm thirsty) but without "J'ai". Jeez, does it even make any sense ? Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter !

* * *

_Where the hell did he go with that shotgun ?_ The question had been running in circles in Abraham's mind since his guard had left. It had been half an hour now. Had demons breached into the tunnels ? But who would have phoned to warn him then ? All the others were at the four white trees. It made no sense !

That was when the round main door opened and the man walked in. He was carrying the shotgun and Enola was flung over his shoulder like a mere sack, her arms and legs dangling limply. Had he been able to, he would have burst an aneurism and again, he was grateful no one could see his head : the human wouldn't have failed to wonder why his eyes all but shot out of their sockets. Or why worry was so clearly etched on his face. He followed the man's every gesture as he lowered Enola to the ground and sat her down with her back against one of the pillars. His breath caught in his throat when he saw her face : it looked as if someone had splashed a burning liquid on it ; and where her skin wasn't an angry red, it was ashen. Her hands, he noticed, were in the same state. Only the faint rising and falling of her stomach showed she wasn't dead. _What in Moloch's name happened to her ? What did he do to her ?_ He stiffened when the human, who had disappeared into the surveillance room, came back with thick ancient manacles similar to the chains restraining him. And it took all his willpower not to try and lunge at the man when he closed one cuff around Enola's left ankle ; he hitched the other to one of the rings of the chain holding Abraham's right arm.

"What are you doing ?" the latter growled, but of course the human didn't hear him.

"Sorry about that, Goldeneye," the man mumbled, tugging at the manacles a couple of times. "Can't have you running amok and killing innocents, right ? I'm sure you'll thank me when you're back to your usual self."

 _What ? What does this mean ?_ Abraham barely acknowledged the man leaving the cell for the surveillance room : he was too busy keeping his worried gaze glued on the unconscious young woman sitting limply not far from him, her hands resting in her lap, her shoulders drooping, her head hanging to the side and her tousled hair hiding half her face. She looked like a dislocated doll. _Wake up. Wake up you insufferable woman._

…

Burning. Her face. Her hands. They were burning. It was faint, but it wasn't pleasant. And she felt so weak, as if all her bones were gone. And she was _thirsty._ So _thirsty._ She craved the taste of blood on her tongue and its warmth flowing down her throat ; but not anyone's blood, no : her instinct was pulling her in specific directions, to specific preys. And one of them wasn't far. _So I'm still under Parish's fucking curse. Great._ But, this time, she could think much more clearly : the thirst was still overwhelming, still unbearable, but she could resist the terrible urge to quench it. _How strange…_ At this moment, a question popped in her mind and it felt like a punch in her stomach : _did I kill anyone ?_ Enola frantically tried to remember what had happened after the curse had latched onto her, but everything was blurry, muffled by the monstrous thirst. _No, no come on… What did I do ?_ Streets. Rooftops. The thirst, the urge to sink her teeth into soft flesh. And then… a smell. Delicious, utterly irresistible. The blood of her prey –of one of them. More running. The wind on her face, full of the promises carried by the scent of blood. A man, alone in the middle of a street, his blond hair almost white in the light of the streetlamps, like a beacon. The face was familiar, but it hadn't mattered– wait. _Oh no._

"Hawley !" Enola shouted, opening her eyes.

Only, her shout came as a barely intelligible croaking and she had to squeeze shut her eyes burnt by the bright white light flooding the room where she was. She let out a small groan of pain and tried to press her hands against her eyelids, but her arms seemed to weigh a hundred pounds. She heard a noise of chains to her left, a door opening behind her and footsteps accompanied by a familiar scent –though it was tainted by the smell of dry blood.

"Carmilla ? You awake ?" Hawley's voice rose to her right.

"Yeah," the vampire answered in a husky voice. "Did I hurt you ?"

"A bit. I'll survive," the human reassured her. "Uh, sorry about the vervain, by the way."

 _Vervain. Of course._ The memory of the horrible pain was perfectly clear : it was like a slap in the middle of a nap.

"It's okay," Enola assured him, cracking her eyes open just enough to catch a blurry sight of his face –he was crouching near her. "I'm glad you did it. Would've killed you otherwise. Um, how long was I out ?"

"A bit more than an hour, I think."

Enola parted her eyelids a little more, making sure the light no longer blinded her : it didn't. She opened her eyes fully and glanced around. _I'm in the Masonic cell. Maybe the protective hexes are what's clearing my mind. They must be dampening the curse._ It didn't mean that her thirst was any less strong, though : she could make a distinction between it and herself, could control it, but it was still agonizing. And the fact that Hawley, whom her inner predator was insisting on bleeding dry, was right next to her didn't make things any better.

"You okay ?" the man asked.

His tone was slightly wary but Enola couldn't really blame him for it, and she cast a guilty glance at the broad thick adhesive bandage on his neck.

"I'm not, thanks to Parish," she huffed, spitting the name like something with a revolting taste. "You should probably stay away. I don't know how long I'll be able to control myself."

"Uh, I took a precaution," Hawley specified, pointing at her feet.

Enola followed his finger and raised a sarcastic eyebrow when she spotted the broad cuff circling her ankle.

"Well, that's ironic," she commented with a derisive smile, glancing at Abraham.

"Sorry," the human apologized again with a small rueful grimace.

Enola weakly waved her hand, dismissing the apology.

"Don't worry, it's better that way. I'd give you my daylight ring too, but with the UV lights I don't think it's a good idea. I don't really fancy ending up a small pile of ashes. Seriously though, don't stay near me. I'm still dangerous and honestly, it's not agreeable for me either."

"Right," Hawley said, standing up. "I'll be in the surveillance room. Shout if you need anything."

"I'll try."

Her throat was still sore and she felt as if its walls were covered in sand : any attempt at shouting would surely result in some pathetic sound.

"Hang on, okay ?" the human said before retreating into the surveillance room.

The concern in his voice made Enola smile tiredly : all in all, Hawley wasn't such a devil-may-care. She sighed and adjusted her position against the pillar. She was in for a long night, so might as well get comf–

"Hey, I forgot, you interested in this ? Katrina lent it to me, just in case."

Enola looked up and saw the human standing not far from her : he was holding out Katrina's necklace. She lifted a surprised eyebrow : usually, the witch didn't easily part from it. Had something happened ?

"Maybe _you'd_ like to talk to him," Hawley added, his eyebrows raised questioningly.

The young woman let out a short bark of laughter : knowing Abraham, and herself, any interaction between them would likely be an argument rather than a conversation. But at least, it would distract her ; and besides, she didn't mind another battle of wits.

"Give it," she said, extending her arm towards Hawley.

The latter walked to her and dropped the necklace in her open hand.

"Have a nice chat," he snarked before leaving the cell again.

For a few minutes, Enola fiddled with the jewel, twining the chain around her fingers. She knew what she wanted to talk about, but she was _very_ reluctant : as mentioned before, she didn't particularly enjoy admitting she had been wrong ; but she wasn't so stupid as to refusing to do so. Still, she hadn't planned to talk about that so soon, and she'd have preferred to do it later rather than sooner. _Katrina just_ had _to give Hawley her necklace, had she ?_ She could feel the weight of Abraham's quizzical gaze on her : he was certainly wondering why she was so hesitant. Enola sighed and busied herself with putting on the necklace, a task which her shaky hands and weak fingers were making difficult.

"Bordel de merde," she cursed between her clenched teeth when her fingertips slipped on the clasp for the umpteenth time.

When at last she looked up, Abraham was watching her with an expressionless face. _He's closed up again. Well, that won't make things any easier._ She looked away and took a deep breath before starting talking, all the while twiddling with her fingers.

"I, um… I thought about our argument in the gorgon's cave," she said hesitantly.

 _Look at him you idiot._ She turned her eyes towards him : this time, perplexity was clearly written on his face.

"You were right," the young woman admitted quickly, before she could lose heart. "I can't expect you to change your nature when I haven't mine. It was… hypocrite of me. I'm sorry."

She almost laughed at the utter stupefaction that appeared on Abraham's face. But since she wasn't exactly in the mood, she just smiled faintly and looked down at her hands in her lap. She didn't go on talking, simply letting him process what she had said ; she knew that, had their positions been reversed, she would've appreciated some time to think. To keep her mind away from her thirst, she sung in a hoarse whisper, her voice cracking on the high notes.

 _Je nous prêtais la force de traverser_  
Un ciel crachant des pluies de météores  
Je nous voyais bravant les pires dangers

_Créant des souvenirs pour en faire un trésor_

_Mais ça monte, ça lutte_  
Ça me saisit  
Ça tire, ça brûle  
Ça jaillit

 _Mais ça monte, ça lutte_  
Ça me saisit  
Ça tire, ça brûle  
Ça jaillit

Mon soleil ne crève plus les nuages  
Il n'efface plus les maux qui me ravagent  
Jalousie, si le doute est un récif  
Toi, tu exfolies mon cœur de tes griffes

…

When the song was over, Enola searched her slurry mind for another one she knew by heart, but before she could begin to sing _Rattle that lock_ by David Gilmour –just for the sake of irony– Abraham's voice suddenly rose.

"You were right too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, Enola's opening up to Abraham ! And Abraham's getting protective of her ! Progress ! And it's not over...  
> The song is "Les météores" by Olivia Ruiz ; I haven't put the whole song because it would have been too long, but you can find it in the playlist on tumblr. I also posted the translation (made by myself !).
> 
> And now for the next chapter...


	25. Death be not proud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to continue this conversation between the two future lovebirds ^^ Things are changing, my friends...  
> Now... should I tell you how long you're going to have to wait before their first kiss ? Maybe... If you say something nice ^^  
> Also, the title is the first line of John Donne's "Sonnet X" in Holy Sonnets.

* * *

The vampire turned her head towards him so fast she almost wricked her neck : she wasn't as surprised as he had been by his admission, but still, she hadn't expected it to come so easily –okay, his tone was a bit reluctant, but then again, so had been hers.

"I am not only the Horseman of Death," Abraham went on, and he seemed to be taking great pains to look in her eyes.

Enola swallowed the sarcastic _No shit_ that was threatening to pass her lips : this was _not_ the time to mock him, not when he was making an effort to open up –an effort she appreciated. So she simply nodded with a slight smile.

"Well, I'm glad you can accept that," she said. "Being a mere killing machine is no strength. Humanity, however… Look, I know you tend to see it as a weakness, to think that other people will see it that way too, but… Believe me, the only being here who thinks that is Moloch. We –Ichabod, Abbie, me, everyone else– think humanity's a strength. It gives you a free will ; it makes you question the orders you receive ; it makes you see the world for itself, and not through the lenses of your master's wishes ; it makes you see people as ends and not means ; it makes you able to choose your own purpose. And believe me : having a purpose makes you strong, because you'll fight for it."

 _Well, wasn't this profound._ Enola suddenly felt very embarrassed as silence drew out and Abraham eyed her with surprise. _Talk about pseudo-philosophy…_ She became very interested in the wall opposite her as her cheeks grew warm.

"You were… not completely wrong about our… respective natures," Abraham added after a couple of minutes.

This made Enola's gaze snap back to him .

"What do you mean ?" she asked in a confused tone. "I told you I was wrong and I meant it."

Abraham sighed and for a few seconds, he looked thoughtful, as if he were looking for the right words.

"You have not changed your nature, but you have… _bent_ it," he began slowly. "Predators like vampires are supposed to kill their preys, and although _you_ don't, your drinking human blood still makes you a vampire. You still are… yourself."

"And you're thinking about doing something similar," Enola guessed.

"… Maybe."

His tone was curt and a bit reluctant, and the young woman couldn't help smiling. _That's him all right. Proud and stubborn. But he's changing. Dear gods, I think I_ actually _managed to make him think about stopping killing innocents !_

"Do you have any idea how you're going to… bend… your nature ?" she asked with genuine curiosity.

"No, I don't," he replied briskly.

Enola frowned and was about to point out his aggressiveness when she noticed how tensed he was, and how hard a time he was having not averting his eyes from her. _He's uncomfortable. The conversation must be a little too heartfelt for him._ She decided to be generous and end the discussion. Then she'd try to lighten the mood.

"Well, if _I_ do, you'll be the first to know," she promised.

Abraham eyed her with surprise for a few seconds, then he averted his gaze.

"Thank you," he mumbled uneasily, making Enola smile with amusement again.

"Well, will you look at that," the vampire continued in a light tone. "We've been talking for several minutes now, and neither of us has shouted, or even insulted the other. Maybe miracles exist after all."

She was satisfied to see Abraham relax immediately and turn his eyes to her again. The wry smile he reserved for their battles of wits stretched his lips and– had her heart just missed a beat ? _Humph. Okay, so_ maybe _I like that smile. So what ? Doesn't mean anything._

"Oh, I'm sure it won't last long," he replied. "For example : what did the human mean when he apologized about vervain ?"

Enola tensed up, pursing her lips in annoyance and glowering at Abraham, whose smile widened.

"Told you", he smirked.

"You _had_ to ask the annoying question, didn't you ?" she grated.

"Here is another one : what is a daylight ring ?"

Enola narrowed her eyes threateningly, in a _you've got two seconds to run if you value your vitals_ glare –Abraham didn't seem impressed.

"Now I think you have a _gift_ for asking annoying questions," she hissed.

"Why, thank you," her verbal opponent said with mock gratitude and a small bow of his head. "I _am_ doing my best."

"Ugh. You're lucky I can't get up."

"And what would you do if you could ? In your state, you couldn't even defeat a kitten in a duel."

"You can talk," the vampire scoffed. "You're trussed up like a chicken !"

It was Abraham's turn to glare at her, and hers to smirk triumphantly.

"You didn't answer my questions," he growled when he didn't find anything to retort to her.

For a moment, Enola entertained the thought of not telling him anything just to spite him, but she quickly changed her mind. First, and oddly enough, she didn't have the heart to do so ; and second, Abraham was far from stupid : he'd eventually figure out that vervain was what had put her in such a state. Besides, she _had_ said that without her ring, the UV lights, hence sunlight, would turn her into ashes. She sighed and tried to settle a bit more comfortably and the stone floor.

"We vampires are allergic to vervain," she explained. "It burns and weakens us. As for a daylight ring… It's a ring that was enchanted by a witch so the vampire wearing it can walk in sunlight."

"I see. So you had already encountered a witch when you met Katrina ?"

Enola was a little disconcerted that he chose not to linger on her weaknesses and she cast him a surprised glance, but didn't point it out. Instead, she just answered his question.

"No. The ring was given to me by the vampire who turned me."

"Who was he ? Or she ? "

Daniel's face flashed in her mind and with it a slew of memories and emotions, both pleasant and unpleasant, but all conclude by the heart-piercing stab of betrayal. Enola's body tensed up and she crossed her arms, clenching her teeth and not looking at Abraham.

"I'd rather not talk about him," she muttered.

She immediately realized that these few words, added to her attitude, had probably told Abraham a lot more than she wanted him to know, but it was too late to change that now. So she decided to change the subject completely. Only, Abraham didn't give her the time to do so.

"What has Henry done to you ?" he asked in a tone he was obviously trying –and failing– to keep neutral.

Enola stared at him, bewildered : had he just… changed the subject because he had noticed how uncomfortable she was ? Was he abiding by her wish not to talk about her past ? Was he being _nice_?

"I, uh…" she began.

And then she broke off, because she had no idea what she was going to say –her mouth had opened without letting her brain catch up with it. _Oh come on, get a grip ! Yeah, so he was considerate for once, and then what ? It's just politeness, it's normal ! … Well, maybe not when it's from him to me…_ She mentally slapped herself to put her ideas back in place, then cleared her throat to hide her embarrassment before making a second attempt.

"Parish cursed me," she explained. "He sicced me on innocent people and I…"

Enola paused and tightened her lips at the memory.

"I couldn't control myself," she went on bitterly. "If not for Hawley, Parish would have made my worst fear come true –I would've become a monster. I would've killed more than twenty innocent persons… Slaughtered them."

A lump swelled in her throat when she brutally realized how close the situation had been from a catastrophe, and her thirst was dampened by a sick feeling. If Hawley had just passed out when she had crashed into him… A violent shiver shook her and she pulled up her legs against her chest, hugging them. Her heart sped up and her breathing accelerated. _No, I'm_ not _having a panic attack in front of him… I'm not I'm not I'm not– oh gods._ She rested her forehead on her knees and tried to control her breathing ; her hands were squeezing her arms so hard her knuckles were white.

"… Enola ?"

Abraham's hesitant voice sounded distant, muffled by her heart pounding in her ears and the sound of her feverish breathing. The young woman shook her head : she felt as if she'd throw up if she opened her mouth.

"Si je l'avais percuté un peu plus fort…" she whimpered after swallowing a few times. "S'il s'était évanoui… Je l'aurais tué, et ensuite tous les autres… Oh my gods…"

She felt so _oppressed,_ as if the room had shrunk around her. The air in the small space between her thighs and her torso was hot and stuffy. Her jaws were clenched so tightly that her teeth felt ready to shatter.

So little. It would have taken so little.

Abraham was watching her, worry painfully wringing his heart : not only couldn't he _do_ anything, but he also had no idea what to say. Yet he _felt_ he should say something : it was like a hook hitched onto his insides and pulling him to her. He bit his lower lip : when was the last time he had comforted a woman ? … Oh wait, he had _never_ had to do that. He inwardly cursed : he was just realizing how _inexperienced_ he was with women… Correction : he was inexperienced with them when out of a formal, conventions-ruled environment. _All right, keep it simple. Keep it simple…_

"Enola, you did not killed anyone ; nothing went wrong."

She didn't react, and he wracked his brain for something else to say.

"Dwelling on what could have happened is useless. It didn't happen, it did _not_ happen… Enola, are you listening to me ?"

A small muffled "yes" came from her, but she didn't look up. Abraham swallowed an impatient sigh and tried to find another idea to break her panic attack ; something clicked in his mind when he reviewed her words, trying to find an answer to them.

"Enola, tout va bien. C'est fini, vous allez bien. Vous n'avez tué personne. C'est fini."

This time, her head shot up and she stared at him with wide eyes : her face was a little redder than usual, but she wasn't crying – _thank God._

"Vous parlez français ?!" she exclaimed incredulously, in a slightly hoarse voice.

"Bien sûr," he answered with a shrug, as if he weren't pleased by her surprise. "J'ai eu une bonne éducation, vous savez."

The young woman watched him for a few seconds, then a small smile stretched her lips.

"You have a good accent," she admitted.

He concealed just how satisfied he was with her compliment and contented himself with a small nod.

"Thank you," he said.

He watched her sigh, then run a hand down her face and lean her head against the pillar behind her. She looked worn out, but at least she no longer needed to breathe in a bag.

"Feeling better ?" he asked.

"Well, I still want to rip off the throat of two dozen people," Enola ironically answered, "and I still feel as if every bone in my body had turned to jelly."

"… I see," was the only reply that came to Abraham's mind.

Right now, he was trying to ignore the fact that he hated seeing her like this, seeing her chained and weak and hurting, and that he had never _ever_ felt like this before. He was trying to ignore the fact that he wanted nothing more than his chains to vanish so he could take her in his arms, and that he had never _ever_ felt like that before. He was trying to ignore these facts because he couldn't do anything about them, and because they scared him : he felt as if he was gradually getting his soul back, _and it bloody hurt_. And speaking of soul… He had been an utter _idiot_ , for ever thinking he could have asked Moloch to bring Enola back if she had truly died : as if she would have been grateful to him ! Knowing her, she would have immediately killed herself upon seeing he had brought her back to an apocalyptic world where her friends and family were dead. Or she would have tried to send Moloch back to hell first, and maybe she would have perished in her attempt. But either way, she would have died hating him. And that… was a rather unpleasant thought, to put it mildly.

"Thank you."

Enola's slightly croaky voice interrupted his thoughts and he focused back in her : she was looking at him with a half-smile and a somewhat shy glint in her eyes.

"For… your words, I mean," she specified a little hastily.

She didn't see him smile wryly at her embarrassment since she now seemed very engrossed in the task of changing her position to sit cross-legged.

"You are welcome," he answered, and he put as much sincerity as he dared in his tone.

Enola's eyes settled on him again and her playful smile did strange things to his insides. She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the door leading to the surveillance room swung open and Hawley strode into the cell with a satisfied expression. Abraham glared at him for intruding on their conversation, but the human was conscientiously avoiding looking at him.

"The others are coming back," Hawley explained when he met Enola's questioning gaze. "Moloch's dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moloch is counting the worms ! Yay ! And now, there are six weeks between the events in this episode and those in the next : lots a things can happen in six weeks, don't you think ?  
> Sooo... what do you think of Abraham's reaction to Enola's panick attack ? I didn't want the moment to get mushy, but still keep it a bit sweet : I hope I've succeeded... Anyway, next time : the curse is lifted and... well, you'll see... I promise I won't make you wait too long : I'll update next week.
> 
> Translation :  
> Si je l'avais percuté un peu plus fort : If I had hit him a bit harder  
> S'il s'était évanoui : If he had passed out  
> Je l'aurais tué, et ensuite tous les autres : I'd have killed him, then all the others  
> Tout va bien. C'est fini, vous allez bien. Vous n'avez tué personne. C'est fini : It's all right. It's over, you're fine. You haven't killed anyone. It's over  
> Vous parlez français : You speak French  
> Bien sûr. J'ai eu une bonne éducation, vous savez : Of course. I received a good education, you know


	26. Drawing blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chose promise, chose due, as we say in French -a promise is a promise.  
> This is the last chapter in the series devoted to Magnum Opus and The Akeda. Thanks for the kudos and the comments, and enjoy !

The news brought a broad smile to Enola's face, but left Abraham stunned. _They have managed to kill Moloch ?!_ He couldn't decide how he felt : on one hand, Moloch's death meant he had lost his very reason for existing –he was a Horseman of the Apocalypse, and there wouldn't be any Apocalypse after all. On the other hand, he was free of any hold Moloch might have had over him. Mind you, it wasn't as if he could enjoy this freedom : he couldn't exactly go anywhere.

Enola, however, had no such concerns : she threw a victorious fist in the air and whooped with delight.

"They did it !" she all but shrieked. "Oh my gods, they _actually did it_! Who delivered the killing blow ?"

"Don't know," Hawley answered, shrugging. "Abbie said it was complicated."

Enola raised a perplexed eyebrow at this.

"Complicated ? Huh. Ah well, guess we'll have to wait for them," she sighed. "Hey, did they tell you if Parish died too ?"

"No, why ?"

"Well, aside from the fact that it would please me immensely, I was wondering if a warlock's spells disappear when he dies," the young vampire explained. "I'm still thirsty, and I still want to put my fangs in your throat… Uh, not that I want to alarm you."

"Too late," Hawley confessed, taking a cautious step backwards, especially when he noticed that Enola apparently couldn't take her eyes off his neck.

"Sorry," Enola said with a wince. "Hey, will you bring me a vial of vervain ?"

"Sure, but why do you–"

"Just bring it please," she cut him off. "I need it."

Without further question, Hawley disappeared into the surveillance room and came back a few seconds later with a vial full of vervain extract, which he tossed her.

"Thanks," she said, catching it.

And before either man could say anything, she opened it and gulped a mouthful of vervain extract.

"What the hell Carmilla ?!" Hawley shouted, snatching the vial from Enola's grasp.

"Are you insane ?!" Abraham roared, yanking on his chains.

Meanwhile, Enola was coughing her lungs up and her face was contorted in a painful grimace as the liquid was literally burning its way down.

"I– I was get– getting s– stronger," she explained between coughs. "It's n– not good for your– health Hawl– Hawley."

"Dammit Lucy," the latter muttered angrily. "You could've just told me to get away from you."

"Safer that way," Enola gasped, sniffling and wiping her wet eyes with the back of her hand. "Now I'm sure I can't break the manacles. Holly shit, it hurts…"

"Burning tends to do that," Abraham growled. "Didn't you have a better idea ?"

"Actually, no," the vampire huffed, glaring at him –her damp eyelashes were clinging to each other. "And as I said, it's the safest option."

He pursed his lips but didn't reply. Hawley's surprised gaze passed from one to the other : the two immortals seemed… oddly familiar with each other. Almost friendly, in a weird way.

"I'll go back into the surveillance room," he declared after a few seconds of silence. "Don't pull something like that again, Goldeneye."

"I can't, you took the vial," Enola retorted dryly, but with a hint of humour.

Hawley shook his head, rolling his eyes with amusement, and retreated back to his post.

…

About an hour later, the door in the surveillance room leading to the tunnels opened with a metallic creak, and Enola pricked up her ears at the sound : she heard Abbie, Jenny, Ichabod and Katrina greet Hawley – _perhaps Irving went home…_ ; she heard Abbie ask for her, and a handful of seconds later, the door between the surveillance room and the cell opened and the five humans walked in. They all looked a bit worse for wear, but from their scents, Abbie was the only one seriously injured –well, her and Hawley, of course. They were slightly dishevelled and their clothes were stained with dirt, but much more concerning was the sadness lurking at the back of their eyes and seeping through their gaits.

"Enola, thank God you're okay !" Abbie exclaimed with relief, rushing by Enola's side to hug her.

"Yeah, more or less," the vampire quipped, hugging the Witness back.

Abbie stood up and stepped aside to allow Ichabod, then Jenny, to greet their friend ; Katrina contented herself with a nod and a tight smile, which Enola returned.

"So, what happened ?" she asked eagerly, her eyes passing from one human to the other.

"Hey, how about Katrina lifts Henry's curse before we tell you the whole story ?" Abbie suggested, crouching beside her friend to put a hand on her shoulder.

"I suppose that would probably be best," Enola approved with a dry smile.

"Yeah, it would," the Witness said, squeezing the vampire's shoulder lightly. "Katrina ?"

"Yes, I will attempt to remove the curse," the witch said, taking a couple of steps forward. "I only need a chalk."

"There should be a box in the storeroom," Ichabod supplied before hurrying towards the metal door at the back of the cell.

Twenty minutes later, Enola was in the centre of a pentagram edged with runes and enclosing the pillar she sat against ; Katrina was kneeling in front of her, outside the chalk star, her hands resting in her lap.

"This will not be pleasant," the witch warned.

Enola simply nodded and took a deep breath.

"I'm ready," she said.

"Then let us begin," Katrina replied.

She closed her eyes and started chanting in Latin, words that Enola didn't recognize. _And to think I took Latin class during eight years. What a waste._ And then she couldn't think of anything else but the excruciating pain, as if her blood had turned into fire, and she screamed and screamed and screamed, writhing on the stone floor. It was as if the grains of cursed dry blood were each clinging to a drop of her blood with sharp claws while being dragged away by Katrina's spell. Dragged away to her lungs.

She stopped screaming because she was choking on the dry blood invading her lungs –piercing through the veins and the arteries, into the bronchial tubes, up in the trachea and then out through her nose, scraping her flesh all its way up. Her back was arched almost to the point her spine would snap, and she felt all her muscles tense up and twist, fighting her helplessness, her failure at drawing in air ; her eyes were squeeze shut so hard bright colourful blotches were exploding behind her eyelids. And when the last grain of dry blood left her body, she slackened and collapsed on the stone slabs, wheezing and coughing even though each breath set her windpipe and her lungs on fire. The dry blood was floating above her head in a brown cloud ; a word and a gesture from Katrina changed it into a puff of smoke that quickly dispersed.

Abbie and Jenny rushed to Enola and helped her sit up while Ichabod busied himself with unlocking the cuff around her ankle. The vampire briefly met Abraham's gaze and was startled by the utter worry written on his face ; there was pain in his eyes, as if he had suffered from his powerlessness to appease her agony.

"How do you feel ?" Abbie asked, distracting her from Abraham. "Do you still want to kill people ?"

"No," Enola croaked, rubbing her throat. "But I wouldn't say no to a blood bag. The vervain weakened me."

The abrasions caused by the dry blood were beginning to heal : her whole respiratory system was itching. She coughed again and Jenny briefly rubbed her back.

"Thanks," Enola rasped, lightly squeezing her friend's shoulder.

Then she looked up towards Katrina, who was still kneeling outside the pentagram, and offered her a small grateful smile.

"Thank you Katrina," she said.

The witch answered with a nod and a faint smile of her own.

"Now, how about you tell me what happened with Moloch ?" Enola suggested.

"Do you not need to feed first ?" Ichabod enquired somewhat worriedly. "If so, I will let you have some of my blood, should you wish it."

Enola bit her lower lip in hesitation : on one hand, she didn't particularly liked taking blood from a friend –although she knew it was a little hypocritical of her : she had no qualms about drinking the blood of a non-consenting stranger. But on the other hand, she felt as if every single bone on her body had been changed into jelly –if not custard. Her hands were shaking and her legs seemed so heavy she wondered if she could ever stand up ; and she was exhausted –she'd probably fall asleep while her friends told her about the night's events.

"All right," she sighed reluctantly.

The British Witness traded places with Jenny and after tugging up the sleeve of his coat and of his shirt, he offered her his wrist. Enola carefully placed a hand on his and the other on his forearm, let her fangs lengthen, and bit the inside of Ichabod's wrist as delicately as she could. When her fangs broke the skin and the blood flowed in her mouth, she had to rein in her instinct with an iron hand : she was no longer particularly thirsty, but after craving the rich red liquid for several hours, it was a sheer relief to taste it at last. She allowed herself only half a dozen mouthfuls, oblivious to Abraham's jealous gaze on her : he was trying very hard to curb this emotion but Enola's lips pressed against _Ichabod's_ wrist were making things difficult. Fortunately for his limited self-control, the young woman soon leant back, freeing the Witness's wrist. _Calm down, she_ needs _to do this damn it ! She's only drinking some blood, there is nothing even_ remotely _romantic in– wait a minute…_

"Thanks so much, Ichabod," Enola was saying, pulling her own sleeve up. "I'll give you a bit of my blood to heal to wound."

She brought her wrist to her fangs and in a flash, he understood what she intended to do. He nearly burst an aneurism again and somewhere inside him, Death growled with fury. _Ours,_ it snarled. _Ours ours ours !_ Death _is_ possessive after all : everyone knows it doesn't easily relinquish those it has chosen. And now that Abraham had definitely set his sights on Enola, Death was following suit.

Had he made a noise ? Unconsciously pulled at his chains and made them groan ? Or maybe Ichabod had just felt the weight of Abraham's withering glare on him. In any case, the Witness looked up towards his former friend and had to control a start as the phrase _if looks could kill_ crossed his mind : because if they could, he'd be dying in agony right now.

"Perhaps we should use a glass," he suggested hastily, catching Enola's arm before she could bite her wrist too deeply.

The vampire cast him a confused glance but didn't argue.

"Okay," she said, lowering her arm. "Let's go to the archives then, we'll be more comfortable to talk."

She got up with Abbie's help, wobbling a little before finding her balance, and flashed a small but somehow bright smile at Abraham, her eyes twinkling. The latter replied with a nod, his features carefully schooled –otherwise he'd probably have smiled like an idiot for several minutes, even after she had left the cell with the humans.

…

For the first time, Enola was glad her friends hadn't killed Parish when they had had the opportunity : otherwise, one of them would have died after slaying Moloch – _who had the dumb idea to make a sword that kills its user ?!_ However, she didn't share Katrina and Ichabod's enthusiasm at the idea that Parish had put his master to the sword to save his mother : not that she wished he hadn't, but it wasn't nearly enough to redeem him. As for the _proof that there's still good in him_ thing, she wasn't convinced _at all_ ; something told her he hadn't done this out of love. Anyway, next time she'd see him, she'd thank him, and _then_ she'd kill him –she wasn't an ungrateful person.

As for Irving's death… She didn't feel the loss as much as Abbie, Jenny and Ichabod, because she hadn't known him as well as they had –but enough to mourn him : he had been a good, brave man and the gods knew this world needed people like this ; she had particularly admired him when he had given himself up to save his daughter from imprisonment. Now, the problem was to know whether Parish still owned his soul even if he was no longer the Horseman of War, and what would happen if it was the case.

"So… what now ?" she asked, propping her elbows on the table they sat around and resting her chin on her hands.

"Now we rest," Abbie answered, leaning back in her chair and stretching her legs. "We've earned it, don't you think ?"

"Yeah, who knows ? Now that Moloch's dead we _might_ have whole week without supernatural incidents," Jenny said dryly.

"Aah… Just me, my students, their works and my colleagues," Enola sighed with mock delight. "Actually, the demons were a welcome distraction. Although a pause will do us some good, I guess."

"That it will," Ichabod agreed. "We all need to rest."

"So that means that you'll stop asking me for weapons for free ?" Hawley asked sarcastically. "That's good news…"

Jenny and the Witnesses protested loudly while Enola burst out laughing. She watched them bicker with a fond smile which faded when she started thinking about Abraham : she wondered what would become of him now that Moloch was feeding the worms. She doubted very much that her friends would kill him, not when it would cost the life of one of them ; besides, he couldn't go anywhere. No, he'd certainly remain chained up in the cell, alone, until… until when ? The young woman chewed her lower lip : she couldn't deny that his fate was grim and it saddened her –alone underground, unable to move, with just a stone wall as a view. She tried to imagine just stopping seeing him and was surprise to find that her heart was sinking : she'd miss his wry smile, his grey eyes, his deep smooth voice, their fights –she'd miss _him_. Period. _I'll visit him. I'll bring books and I'll read them to him. I've never read to someone… It's going to be strange._ Yes, she'd visit him the next day. She refused to think of Abbie's reaction if she realized that Enola liked the murderer of Sheriff Corbin –her father figure.

Later.

She'd deal with this later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abraham is jeeaaalooouus ! Yeah, I know, Enola could've waited to be back in her flat to have a blood bag, but I couldn't resist...  
> Anyway, now I've got a six-week ellipsis to fill. Lots of things can happen in six weeks, right ? Guess you'll have to wait and see ^^  
> Just one last thing : Lucy -another one of Hawley's nicknames for Enola- is a character from Stoker's Dracula -a woman turned into a vampire by Dracula. You know, Mina's friend. If you didn't already know.


	27. Death warmed up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we go : six weeks to fill up, and it begins now... Most of it will be devoted to the evolution of Enola and Abraham's relationship. And speaking of which... enjoy this chapter !

It took a whole day for Enola to brace herself for her visit to Abraham. Not that she found the perspective unpleasant -but we had already established this fact. No, she was afraid : of what her friends would think if they learnt of her growing affection for Abraham, of what said growing affection meant, of what it could become, of what would follow if it became _that_.

But maybe it was already _that._

And it scared the hell out of her.

But she had to collect the books she had left at Willow Point estate, and basic politeness dictated that she asked its owner for his permission to go there in his absence.

... She wasn't just making up an excuse to go see him, right ?

So, this Sunday morning, Enola dressed with skinny black jeans, a long-sleeved red top, a black wrap-over cardigan and her ankle boots ; then she took a deep breath, shoved on her duffle coat and tied her scarf around her neck. After taking another deep breath - _oh for the gods' sake Enola, you're not going to the gallows !-_ she grabbed her dark brown leather purse and her keys, and left her flat.

Fortunately, Enola had forgotten to give back her necklace to Katrina -who, oddly enough, hadn't asked for it. And fortunately, the Archives were empty when she arrived, so she didn't have to answer any embarrassing question. She slipped into the tunnels and headed for the cell. Much to her exasperation, her nervousness was increasing at each step she took ; by the time she reached the main door, she felt as if she had dying snakes instead of innards. She couldn't help pausing in front of the large door, and she immediately cursed herself for it. _I'm pathetic. Hell and flame, it's not as if I were going to_ propose _to him or something ! Get a hold of yourself girl !_ She mentally slapped herself and before she could lose heart, she pushed open the doors.

Abraham looked up when he heard her come in and surprise appeared on his face.

"Enola ? What are you doing here ?" he asked in a confused tone.

"Well, I obviously missed this place _so much_ ," Enola said sarcastically, folding her arms. "The view is so... _inspiring_ , don't you think ?"

Abraham rolled his eyes.

"If you don't want to answer the question, just say it," he sighed. "No need to get defensive."

The vampire shot him a confused look : how did he know that the answer to his question embarrassed her ? That she wasn't comfortable with telling him why she had come ?

"You fold your arms when you're uneasy," Abraham said as if he had read her mind, which caused her to start. "Otherwise I may have thought that you were only trying to annoy me."

 _Damn it ! Since when does he know me that well ?_ Enola didn't fell any less embarrassed by the truth, but she didn't really want to lie to him either. She owed him one, anyway, for his successful attempt at calming her down two nights ago. Plus, that same night, they had already started being honest to each other and it had worked out quite well. So why spoil that ? She sighed and held up her hands in surrender.

"Fine," she grumbled, going and leaning against one the pillars that faced her interlocutor. "I came here becauseâ€“"

She broke off and suddenly found a tremendous interest in her fingers fiddling with her daylight ring. There was a lump in her throat and the snakes from earlier where still contorting in the throes of death. She didn't dare look at him and she felt incredibly silly for it : she was acting like a shy teenager on her first crush, something that she _definitely wasn't_. And the more nervous she felt, the more difficult it was not to snap at him ; she forced herself not to, because he hadn't done anything to deserve her aggressiveness... well, not today, at least.

"I didn't want to leave you here alone," she confessed, still looking at her hands. "So I came to see you."

She realized her poor choice of words at the moment she finally decided to meet Abraham's eyes and saw the storm brewing in them.

"I _do not_ want your _pity_ ," he growled with anger and disgust. "You can leave."

"I misspoke," Enola said, nervously pulling at a lock of hair. "I don't pity you-"

"What then ? Did you feel obliged to come ? Because if so-"

"Will you let me finish ?" the vampire cut him off with exasperation. "Yes, I didn't like the idea of leaving alone down here. But it's only because I... appreciate you."

There : the cat was out of the bag. And it was a big cat, too : Abraham couldn't have looked more stunned if she had smacked his head with it.

"... What ?" he eventually managed to utter.

"Yeah, well," Enola mumbled with embarrassment, examining her fingernails. "Don't ask me why I like you, because I've no idea."

Well, that wasn't entirely true, but there was no way she was going to list every reason why she liked him in front of him. That first admission was embarrassing enough.

"Anyway, um... I also wanted to ask if you'd allow me to go to your estate to retrieve my books," the vampire went on, toying with her daylight ring.

"Oh ? So you're asking for my permission this time ?" Abraham smirked. "You won't simply barge in and make yourself at home ?"

"I _did not_ barge in," Enola huffed, glaring at him -which only served to widen his smirk. "And besides, I hated and despised you at that time."

He almost asked her what had changed, but she had said she didn't know. Also, even if she did, he doubted she'd have explained : she was already quite uncomfortable with confessing she appreciated him, so she wouldn't go any further. He decided he wouldn't push it : he didn't want her to leave and never come back.

"You can enter the estate," he simply said instead. "Your books are still in the living room, except for _The turn of the screw_ : it's in my bedroom, on the armchair."

"You've started Henry James ?" Enola pointed out with a smile. "You finished Poe, then."

"How did you know I was reading Poe ?" Abraham asked, frowning with confusion.

She hadn't been in the estate when he had chosen the book, and he was certain she had never seen him reading it.

"It was missing from the pile and Katrina was reading _Jane Eyre_ ," Enola explained. "Seriously Abraham, did you think I wouldn't notice ?" she added, shaking her head, with a half-amused half-exasperated smile.

He tightened his lips with embarrassment and didn't reply. His behaviour seemed utterly foolish now, but at the time he'd have severed his own hand rather than admit he enjoyed _her_ books. Now, however... Well maybe, _just maybe_ , he was a little flattered by the fact that she had been paying enough attention to him to know and remember what he had been reading.

"So, what did you think of it ? Of Poe I mean ?" Enola enquired, and a genuine curiosity was twinkling in her eyes.

And this was how they spent the next hours talking about gothic literature -and about gothic art in general. Enola explained the principles on which it was based, the rules that governed it, its history ; she told him about the books she had read, the paintings she had seen, the films se had watched ; she listed her favourites gothic artists and their characteristics ; she described the exhibition about dark romanticism she had once visited in Paris. And Abraham would give his opinion, ask questions and smile at her sarcastic jokes, all the while trying his best not to devour her with his eyes : her golden eyes blazing with passion, her smooth cheeks flushed with enthusiasm, her fervent gestures, the ardent, almost feverish energy she radiated, this time it was all for _him_ and him _alone_.

What could he say ? He didn't like to share.

Enola skipped her lunch, but she didn't care -one, because she didn't even realize it, and two because she didn't need to eat anyway. Her thirst, however, was becoming uncomfortable. Next time, she'd bring a blood bag. She discreetly glanced at her wristwatch : it was almost three in the afternoon. _Damn it. Time flies really fast..._ She had to grade her students' tests, but she wanted to take back her books first.

"Well, I have to go," she announced at a moment when the conversation was dwindling. "I'm thirsty and I've got work to do."

She saw disappointment flash in Abraham's eyes, but he contented himself with a nod. She stood up -she had sat down with her back against the pillar shortly after the beginning of their conversation- and brushed her clothes with her hands.

"So, um... I was thinking..." she began in a tone she struggled to keep casual. "Next time, I could bring _The turn of the screw_ and, um... read it to you. If you'd like, of course."

Abraham's pride was stung by her proposition to read to him as if he were some helpless old man incapable of leaving his bed, but if that meant he'd see her again and he'd continue to enjoy literature... he'd take it.

"All right," he thus accepted.

Any regret he might have had concerning his decision vanished with the smile that lit up Enola's face.

"Okay then," she said. "Good bye Abraham."

He bowed his head to her and watched her leave the cell, the noise of the closing door somewhat softened by the perspective that she'd come back.

It was horribly cliché, but he already missed her.

...

Enola had a hard time focusing on driving : her thoughts were constantly drifting towards the time she had just spent with Abraham. His grey eyes no longer filled with anger, or hatred, or even sarcasm, but genuine interest and amusement and... happiness. His smile, not a smirk, not a sneer, but a true smile that had softened his whole face.

She promised to herself that she'd make him laugh.

And then she had to crush the brake lever not to ram into the car in front of her, which was stopped at a red light. Needless to say, that brought her back to reality. She spent the rest of the way cursing herself for daydreaming over a man like the brainless heroine of a bad romance novel.

The vampire had barely parked her bike in front of the estate when Acheron burst out of the stable with a joyful neigh.

"Acheron !" Enola exclaimed happily, removing her helmet and hanging it to one of the hand grips.

She got off her bike and greeted the horse with a kiss in his muzzle and a caress on his neck ; Acheron pawed the ground with satisfaction and lightly bumped her shoulder with his head.

"Don't worry, your master is fine," Enola reassured him, scratching his cheek. "I visited him this morning, and I'll probably go back tomorrow. And uh... maybe also the days after."

The stallion let out an amused snort and gazed at her with teasing eyes.

"Oh, shut up," Enola huffed, but her tone was contradicted by the smile creeping on her lips. "Yeah, I like him. So what ?"

Acheron whinnied cheerfully and nudged her cheek with his muzzle, making her laugh.

"I think you're the only one who's going to be happy with that," the vampire commented with a wry smile. "Ah well... Come on, let's remove your saddle and your bridle. Can't be comfortable."

She led the stallion inside the stable and took the saddlery off him, then she curried him, brushed him, cleaned his hooves, put fresh straw in his stall and fresh hay in his rack. After that, she went to the well to fill his trough. When she was done, she said goodbye to Acheron, promising that she'd come visit him ; she left the stable doors unlocked so he could easily go outside.

The books were indeed still on the coffee table in the living room. Enola put them in the backpack she had brought -she had gone back to her flat after visiting Abraham- and headed to Abraham's room. She gingerly opened the door and peeked inside : she spotted a wood-framed double bed with a painting hung on the wall above its head and flanked by two night stands, a desk between the windows whose shutters were closed, two armchairs with a faded blue tapestry, a bookshelf and a large chest at the foot of the bed ; the opened door in the wall on her left probably led to his bathroom. There was also, much to her surprise, an easel covered with a white sheet standing near the desk -which was, now that paid more attention, cluttered with painting materials. Enola stepped into the room and went to the armchair on which _The turn of the screw_ was lying, firmly trampling her curiosity, which was insisting that she take a look at the painting hidden by the sheet. _Shut up, damn it ! This is none of your business, you're not here to snoop, understood ?!_ She put the book with the others, turned around and headed towards the door, but stopped halfway. She felt as if the easel and its painting were _calling_ her, and a small voice at the back of her mind was maintaining that there was nothing wrong with sneaking _just a little peek._ Abraham wouldn't know anything. Eventually, Enola gave up with an exasperated sigh.

"Fine," she mumbled irritably. "Just a quick look."

She strode to the easel, grabbed a fistful of cloth and pulled.

She gasped. Her fingers opened and the sheet rippled to the floor. Her legs suddenly felt weak and she had to clutch the edge of the desk no to collapse on the floor.

The painting.

It was...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you can all guess what the painting is... If not, you'll have to wait a bit ^^  
> So, as you can see, we've taken a small step forward with Enola and Abraham... The next one will be bigger, although Abe won't be present. And now Im going to shut up before I spoil everything...
> 
> How about a comment now ?


	28. Head over heels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I've been a bit preoccupied with what the HELL I'm going to do next year... Anyway, I know you've just been dying to find out what the painting is, so without further ado, I present to you the twenty-eighth chapter !

...her.

It was a portrait of _her_.

A head-and-shoulders portrait, in three-quarter profile, with her chin slightly lifted, and hooded eyes that looked right at the spectator. She stood out against a dark, indistinct background and half her face was bathed in the warm light of a fire. She was showing her true face : her scleras were filled with blood, swollen veins traced dark paths under her eyes, and her lips stretched in a wry smile revealed her fangs. Yet, under Abraham's brush, she didn't look monstrous at all.

She looked beautiful. And proud. And _dangerous_.

But more than that, every single detail was there, from the exact shade of red of her hair to the beauty mark at the corner of her lips, including the precise shape of her nose. As if Abraham had spent so much time observing her that he knew her by heart ; that he didn't need her in front of him to paint a perfect portrait.

It scared the hell out of her.

Because now she knew he loved her -vampire and all.

Enola hastily threw the sheet back on the painting and fled the estate. She didn't go very far though : after nearly crashing into a tree for the third time, she skidded her bike to a halt, tore her helmet off her head and began to pace feverishly, raking her hair with her fingers. She _needed_ to talk to someone, _quickly_ , or she'd explode. The question was : who ? Abbie was out of the question : she _hated_ Abraham since he had killed Sheriff Corbin. Same for Jenny. Katrina ? No way. Enola no longer felt close enough to the witch to spill her sentimental life to her. That left Ichabod : he knew Abraham well, and Enola was certain that he'd be willing to consider him as something else than a monster. Ichabod it was, then. She shoved her helmet on her head, got on her bike, started it with a firm kick and sped towards the late Sheriff Corbin's cabin.

...

Enola pulled over in front of the cabin. Leaving her helmet on the seat, she strode to the door and knocked firmly. A few seconds later, the door opened and Ichabod appeared. He immediately noticed that something was amiss : a storm was brewing in his friend's eyes, her lips were tightened in a thin line and she was nervously fiddling with her daylight ring ; her breath was coming out in brief, quick puffs in the cold December air.

"Enola ? What's wrong ?" the Witness asked worriedly.

"I need to talk to you. Alone," the vampire answered rather curtly. "Please."

Ichabod stepped aside to allow her entrance.

"Katrina is outside practicing her magic," he said as she walked past him.

"Good," Enola mumbled. "Good."

Ichabod prepared two cups of Earl Grey while Enola took off her coat and her scarf and sat down at the table ; he set one in front of his friend before taking a seat across her.

"Now," he said. "Tell me what is wrong."

Enola spilt everything, from the moment she had seen Abraham's face and found him handsome to her discovery of the portrait : how she had hurled his home truths ; how he had avoided her after that ; how he would listen to the history lessons she had given to Katrina and sneak books from the stack she had brought -which had amused her ; how he had looked at her when her shirt had turned transparent after her plunge in the Hudson River ; how he had let her see him shirtless to fluster her, which had worked remarkably well ; how she hadn't been able to stop thinking about this moment every time she had seen him afterwards ; how she had been hurt by Katrina's reaction to her killing one of Parish's men with her fangs, and by Abraham's words when he had come to check on her -though she hadn't understood why ; how she had noticed his desire to kiss her in the gorgon's cave, and her complete absence of disgust at this discovery ; how she had, for a brief second, entertained the idea of encouraging him ; how his eyes had been filled with dread when he had held her as she had been dying ; how she had enjoyed their short battle of wits after she had returned from the dead ; how she hadn't been capable of letting Irving kill him, and how this had scared her ; how they had tentatively opened up to each other while she was under Parish's curse and stuck in the cell ; how he had changed the topic of the conversation when she had become uncomfortable ; how he had broken her out of her panic attack ; how worry had been written all over his face when he had looked at her after she had suffered through the lifting of the curse ; how she had decided to visit him regularly ; how she had enjoyed their conversation this morning.

And there were all those little things too, such as how she liked their battles of wits, and this smirk of his that came with them, how she counted the different shades of grey his eyes would take -she had four of them, for now : storm-clouds grey when he was furious, steel grey when he was angry, rain-clouds-above-the-see grey when he was worried, and silver grey when he was in a good mood, which she had only discovered this morning. Or how she was fascinated by the strange ash-blond of his hair, how she wondered what he'd look like with his ponytail undone.

How she wanted to make him laugh.

And _gods_ , did _that_ sound sappy...

Ichabod, bless him, didn't interrupt her once : he just listened to her, occasionally taking a sip of his tea. She talked for at least half an hour and when she was done, the silence that suddenly settled in the room seemed so... _loud_ to her. The Witness remained silent for a few second, looking thoughtful.

"He loves you," he eventually declared softly. "And you love him back."

Enola sighed, propped her elbows on the table and put her chin on her hands.

"I... don't know," she said, forcing herself not to lower her eyes. "I don't think I do... yet," she added rather grimly.

Her tone caused Ichabod to lift a surprised eyebrow.

"Would it be a bad thing ?" he asked.

Enola sighed again, this time with some exasperation.

"Come on Ichabod !" she huffed. "Abbie and Jenny _hate_ Abraham, they think he's just a monster ! How do you figure they'll react if I tell them that I love him ?!"

"You are afraid they will hate you, too."

"Of course I am !"

"The Leftenant and Miss Jenny are not unreasonable people," he asserted after a moment of thoughtful silence. "Besides, they love and trust you. I am quite certain that they would eventually accept your decision."

The vampire let out an unconvinced snort but didn't reply. Instead, she drank her tea, which was getting cold.

"I have the feeling that there is something else you fear," Ichabod suddenly declared, setting a penetrating gaze on her.

Enola bit her bottom lip and started fidgeting. _Damn it !_ In truth, she had hoped to avoid this subject, since she didn't like to talk about this particular episode of her life. But it seemed there would be no way around it. And besides, she had come to Ichabod for advice, so to tell him only half the story would be pointless.

"You're right," she eventually mumbled. "There's something else."

"It has to do with Daniel, has it ?" the Witness guessed in as tactful a tone as he could.

The vampire eyed him with puzzlement. _How did he...? Bloody hell, that man is too clever for his own good..._

"Yes," she confessed softly after a few more moments of fidgeting and chewing her lip. "I'mâ€¦ afraid, Ichabod. No, I'm terrified... Terrified that if I let myself fall in love with him, if we... start something, it'll end up as it did with Daniel. I'll be heartbroken again, shattered again, and then what, huh ? What if I decide to go through with what I almost did last time and let myself be turned to ashes by the sun ? Or worse, what if decide that I can't bear the pain and turn my humanity off ? I don't want to become a _monster_ , and I don't want to _die_ !"

She broke off, suddenly breathless and feeling that she'd cry if she opened her mouth. Ichabod reached out across the table and gently took her hand in his.

"Enola, you cannot let one bad experience shape the rest of your life," he said firmly, looking straight into her eyes.

"I gave _my life_ to Daniel," Enola managed to choke out through the lump in her throat. "He trampled it. To Abraham, I'd give a broken heart, and with it the power to shatter it into even smaller pieces."

"If Abraham has retained even a fraction of the man he was before, he will not use this power," Ichabod asserted. "He is not a man to give his heart lightly. We saw it with Katrina, whom according to you -and I think you are right- he did not love. Now, if he _does_ love you... He will be even less inclined to take back his heart."

Enola remained in a pensive silence for a couple of minutes, finishing her tea.

"I suppose you're right," she eventually sighed. "But I'm still scared."

"Of course you are. To give oneself to another, especially after such an unpleasant experience, is always frightening. But I think the reward for overcoming this fear is worth all the courage in the world."

"Hmph. Last time, my reward didn't last very long."

"Surely there were good moments in your relationship with Daniel...?"

"Of course ! There were _great_ moments ! I mean, we were really happy for three years..."

"Do you think this happiness was worth the suffering that followed ? If you had to relive it all, would you choose to spend these three years with Daniel, even knowing how it would end ?"

Enola's first impulse was to answer a firm, curt _No_. But all the memories of these three years came rushing in her mind, the laughter, the meals shared, the nights spent together, the kisses and embraces, the complicity, the dates, the idle strolls, the playful competition during the hunts, his hands on her shoulders that would immediately calm her eagerness to quench her thirst, his instructions murmured in her ear as she watched her prey, his eyes on her as she drank -ready to intervene if she lost control.

She thought about the three years shared with Daniel and she saw light -a bright joyful light.

Would she have done it again ? Yes. Would she have accepted to become a vampire for him ? ... No idea. But if she hadn't become a vampire, she probably wouldn't have met Ichabod, and Abbie, and Jenny. And Abraham.

"I think so," she finally sighed. "But it doesn't mean I want to go through that again. And it doesn't mean I'm any less afraid."

"You do not trust him yet."

"No, and I wonder if I'll ever be able to."

"You mean : if you will ever be able to let yourself trust him."

"... Yes."

"It is a leap of faith that takes courage to perform, but if there is something you do not lack, it is courage."

A faint smile graced Enola's lips at her friend's words and gratitude flashed through her eyes. She leant back in her chair and loosely folded her arms.

"I guess I can try... not to refuse to trust him," she sighed. "But it's going to be hard."

"It may not to be a bad thing," Ichabod mused aloud. "Perhaps his perseverance will convince you of the honesty of his feelings."

"Yeah, it could help," Enola agreed.

They remained in a companionable silence for a couple of minutes ; Enola was fiddling with her daylight ring, lost in her thoughts.

"Doesn't that disturb you ?" she suddenly asked, focusing her gaze on Ichabod. "Me considering having... having a relationship with the Horseman of Death ?"

"First, I think you successfully proved that Abraham is no longer only the Horseman of Death," the Witness pointed out with a smile. "And secondly... I cannot forget that he was once my best friend, and I cannot deny that I would be immensely glad to have our friendship back."

"Even after all he's done ? Even after he killed you ?"

"I might need some time before I forgive him..."

Enola chuckled with amusement, and when she talked again, she was still smiling.

"Thanks for listening to me, Ichabod. And thanks for your words."

Her friend nodded with a smile of his own.

"You are welcome," he said. "I hope you find happiness."

"So do I," she replied. "And speaking of happiness... I don't want to pry, but how are things between you and Katrina ?"

It was Ichabod's turn to sigh and lean back in his chair with a somewhat sad expression.

"Katrina withheld too much from me. It's hard, in good conscience, to believe in her as I once did. This makes the re-examination of our marriage... tiring."

Enola reached out across the table and took Ichabod's hand, flashing him a small but sincere smile : sure, she didn't like the witch, and she thought her friend deserved better than a wife constantly lying to him, but he still cared about Katrina -so she'd keep her mouth shut and be there for him.

"I'm sorry, Ichabod," she said. "Is there anything I can do ?"

The human managed a grateful smile and squeezed her hand slightly.

"I am afraid this is something Katrina and I have to deal with on our own, but thank you for your offer."

Enola pulled back her hand as a comfortable silence fell on the dining room again ; this time it was Ichabod who broke it first.

"Will you tell Abraham that you saw the portrait he painted ?" he asked.

Again, Enola's first impulse was to screech _No_. But it immediately occurred to her that lying to Abraham just when she was considering letting him in would make her no better than Katrina. So she sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"I will, but not yet," she answered. "I'll be honest and say that it's as much for me as it is for him : I don't want to embarrass myself any more than I want to embarrass him."

Ichabod nodded his understanding.

"Well... I have to go," Enola announced, rising from her chair. "My students' tests won't grade themselves."

Ichabod stood up too and accompanied her to the door.

"Goodbye Enola," he said, hugging her briefly. "Do not hesitate to come back if you ever need to talk again."

"I won't. Thank you. Bye, Ichabod, and say hi to Katrina from me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ? So ? What do you think ? I'll be completely honest and say I was inspired the scene of the fairth in Eldest, the second book in the Inheritance cycle -you know, when Eragon creates a fairth of Arya ? Anyway, I hope you liked my version ^^  
> Well, as you can see we've made some progress with the Enola/Abraham relationship : now Enola is at least considering starting something with him. Victory ! Although we're not out of the woods yet... Next time, we'll take another step forward.  
> For those who have never watched or read Vampires Diaries : yes, vampires can turn ther humanity off, and then they become cold and unfeeling. It eventually comes back after a few decades, though.


End file.
